


My Super Family

by MySuperFamily (OriginalRandomFandom)



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 84,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalRandomFandom/pseuds/MySuperFamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a family coming together. Some families aren't formed by blood. Sometimes those are the best kinds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Guy in Town

**Author's Note:**

> This past spring, the Avengers ate my brain. Then I discovered Superfamily and my soul was gone too. I was a huge fan of Spider-man growing up, I had a complete run of the Amazing Spider-man (until a flooded basement ate my comic book collection.) The thought of my beloved childhood fandom colliding head on with a current passion? Too tempting! For the first time in a really long time I felt the urge to start a fanfiction. 
> 
> But even though I was a huuuuge comic geek in my youth, I stopped reading about the time they introduced the whole clone saga. And even when I did read comics, I was never an Avengers fan. I read every version of Spider-man there was (honestly, Amazing Spider-man, Spectacular Spider-man, Web of Spider-man, Peter Parker: Spider-man, even all the Marvel Teamups), and some X-books and the occasional Fantastic Four. So in other words, outside the movies, I really don’t know squat about what’s going on in the comics right now with Spidey or what went on in the past with the Avengers at all.
> 
> Plus, something I’ve noticed with many of the stories is that they really don’t ever explain how Peter came to be living with Tony StarK and Steve Rogers, and jump right into the two of them being SuperHusbands in an established relationship. I wanted to start from the beginning. Show how they get together, and form a family.
> 
> So this little story of mine, which started on tumblr (and still is updated there first: http://mysuperfamily.tumblr.com/, will start from the beginning. And it will move slowly (everything I’ve ever written does). It will follow the movie continuity for The Avengers, and my memory of Spidey’s history, leaving out stuff I don’t like, like clones, plus some alterations to fit the story. So I apologize in advance to any who might be bothered by this. Though I figure, if you’re seeking out SuperFamily, you aren’t a canon purist.

“Excuse me,” JARVIS’s cool mechanical voice echoed through the room.

Steve Rogers started, stopped mid-punch and had to grab the punching bag before it could swing forward and hit him. He was still unused to the building’s AI. He hadn’t gotten used to a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time and could pop up without warning.

“Er, yes?” He never knew quite where to look when speaking to JARVIS. It felt rude to have a conversation without looking the speaker in the eyes. But seeing as the AI didn’t have any, he wasn’t sure what the protocol should be.

“Your presence is required in the Family room.”

The ‘Family’ room was what Stark had jokingly named the room that had become their default planning room for any group house decision, large or small. Generally they didn’t discuss anything really serious there, no world saving discussions went on in that room. Stark had a bigger one with a meeting table, lots of monitors and terminals for that. The Family room was a large oval, and had one big curved screen that made up most of one wall. The floor had built in padded stadium couches along the opposite wall, interspersed with small side tables. It made for easy lounging and was too comfortable to deal with big problems.

Stark also kept dragging them all there whenever he wanted to show off something new and shiny. Which could be anything from new coffee machines or some techy thing, or worse something asinine like when he’d programmed JARVIS with a complete movie catalog of every Oscar winner since the inception of the awards and wanted to plan out their first group “movie night.” 

Steve thought a moment about ignoring the summons. Stark had been threatening a marathon of the old Captain America serials and he wasn’t in the mood to bow out of that gracefully.

But, presence is  _required.._.not requested. Something potentially serious could be going down. “Okay.” He grabbed a towel and threw it around his neck. “Um, which way is it from here again?”

“I’ll show you, sir.” JARVIS slid open the door to Steve’s workout room and a panel lit up down by the elevator. “Fortieth floor, the elevator will open into the room.”

“Thanks.”

Living together was still new to all of them. The new Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower, had only completed construction about a month ago. No small feat considering a large chunk of Manhattan was under reconstruction at the same time, making supplies and workers at a premium. But a lot could be done when you had unlimited funds and could say “cost is no object” and  _mean it._ And Tony Stark really did mean it when he said it, and Pepper Potts was polite and clever enough to repeat it in a way that made people feel honored stand in line to help. Having the backing of SHIELD to help grease over any legal technicalities helped too. They all tried to ignore that SHIELD’s interest was most likely in keeping the Avengers where they could see them, most of them anyway.

Thor had yet to return from Asgard, and no one was quite sure if he could return. Steve just hoped if they ever got into enough trouble that they needed the self-proclaimed demi-god he’d be able to make his way back.

The elevator doors opened, and Steve frowned. They weren’t anywhere near the right floor yet. 

“O-oh.” An equally startled Bruce Banner hesitated on the threshold to the elevator. He looked at the tiny, enclosed room. He quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Do you want me to wait for the next one?”

Steve appreciated the thought, but he thought it unlikely that the mild doctor was going to spontaneously transform between this floor and their destination. “No. Not at all,” he said and waved him in.

“Thanks,” Banner gave a little nod of appreciation. He fiddled with his sleeves, rolled up to the elbows. A sure sign he’d been working in the lab Stark had put in his quarters. “So, uh,” he said diffidently as the doors slid shut. “He..he called you too?”

Steve nodded. “Did you think it’s something serious?”

“Mr. Stark requests we hurry.” JARVIS announced before Bruce could reply. The elevator abruptly accelerated up at a dizzying speed. Both men were thrown against the side of the elevator, and it took all of his strength to keep Steve fully upright. Banner went down to his knees.

“Banner!” Steve yelled. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Banner said, his voice choked and his currently human body compressed against the floor. “I think.”

“You think!?” Steve started calculating escape plans to get the doctor out before something regrettable happened. “JAR-“

The elevator slowed, and the doors opened. Unfortunately, it didn’t slow enough to prevent the two men from flying up and out from the sudden stop. Steve flew right into one of the couch backs, and Banner fell into him. They went down in a sprawl.

Tony Stark turned and looked over his should impatiently. “Hurry up! You’re going to miss it!”

“Stark!” Steve barked, levering himself up. “What were you thinking!? Do you have any idea-“

“M-miss what?” Banner asked, picking himself up and peering worriedly at the screen. It was flashing what looked like a cellphone recording of the New York skyline. “Is it Loki?” He pulled out his glasses and started down an aisle, apparently unperturbed by Stark’s method of getting them there.

“Are those webs?”

Steve bit back his anger, and glanced at the woman who’d spoken. Natasha Romanov had her “game” face on, cool and calculating as she stared fixedly at the screen.

“It would go along with his apparent theme,” Barton replied, lounging on a couch in the top row. His eyes didn’t leave the screen.

“Which can I just say,” Pepper said craning around Stark to look at the man above her, “Ew? Spiders? Really?”

Romanov cast her a glance, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Pepper pulled an apologetic face and quickly faced the screen again. 

“What?” Steve asked and then bit back a gasp as a figure flashed between buildings on some kind of rope webbing.

“I think he’s ripping off you a bit there, Spangles.” Stark didn’t glance at Steve as he hurried to stand with the others. “Red, blue and tight pants.”

“Tight everything,” Pepper commented when the wiggling camera refocused on the figure that was somehow clinging, upside down, to a brick wall in a strange crouch.

“Is he hostile?” Steve went into Captain America mode. He hadn’t been active in this time for very long, but in general people dressed up in funny costumes had  _never_  been a good sign in any time.

“Don’t know yet,” Romanov stated.

“Doesn’t seem to be,” Barton chimed in. “You missed him taking down some bank robbers. Swooped in and wrapped them up tight in that web stuff.”

“A friendly?” Steve asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Romanov repeated.

“Are they biological?” Banner asked as the figure turned his hand in a funny gesture and shot out another web strand.

The question remained unanswered, though Steve doubted anyone had an answer for the doctor, when the news announcer began to speak.

“This is startling footage of the cities newest costumed superhero, the self proclaimed “Spider-man.” A serious looking woman said as the screen shrunk down to a square behind her. “Reports are coming in from all over the city as this newest vigilante to hit the streets. Is this a-“

“Sir,” JARVIS said, sounding faintly aggrieved. “I have reporters from several sources asking for a comment on “the Spider-man.” They wish to know if he is another Stark creation.”

“No, of course not.” Stark scoffed. “Does that look like something I’d create?”

“It is awfully flashy,” Steve commented, pulse slowing down as he realized there was no immediate threat from the spindly figure that was once again whipping around on screen.

Stark frowned and cast him a dirty look, but answered JARVIS. “Tell them no comment.” 

“Of course, Sir.”

“Does SHIELD have a hand in this?” Steve asked, glancing up at Barton and over to Romanov.

“Not that we know of,” Barton shrugged and Romanov nodded in agreement.

“It’s, um, a bit more….overt,” Banner suggested, “than Fury’s normal style.”

“What are you talking about?” Stark waved his hands to encompass the room. “WE’RE his normal style.” He flailed a hand dramatically at the screen. “And don’t you see? There’s a new guy in town! And he’s stealing our turf! Stealing our press!”

“Stealing our press?” Steve repeated. “That’s your big concern?”

“Hey, I invested a lot of time and effort into this venture, we should at least get top billing in the news.” Stark grumped. “Look, reduced to co-star.” He gestured to the crawl at the bottom of the screen that quietly announced the official completion of the Avengers Tower and the gala Stark had planned to celebrate it planned for a week from today. Steve had only agreed to appear when Stark had pointed out it was also a fundraiser for the rest of the beleaguered Manhattan. “So not my style.”

Steve resisted rolling his eyes, electing instead to ignore him and address the others. “So what is your read on the situation?” He asked, focusing first on Dr. Banner.

“I… I don’t know,” he frowned at the screen, he picked up a remote and pressed a few buttons. Popups filled a portion of the screen, all news reports of the Spider-man. “This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

“It’s been going on for about a week now,” Romanov commented. “Isolated incidents, seemingly unconnected. Mostly petty crime, muggers, car thieves, burglars. He’s not bringing down any big fish.”

“Seems to be working alone,” Barton said. “Localized to the city.” He shook his head as he watched shaking cell cam footage of the new ‘hero’ grapple with a couple of thugs that had been threatening and old lady. “No combat training. He’s all over the place.”

“Strong,” Bruce said as the wiry figure picked up one of the thugs and lifted him above his head.

“That kind of strength isn’t natural,” Steve said through thinning lips. 

“Question is,” Tony said, “is he a self-made man like Brucey-boy and I,” he paused to clap Banner hard on the shoulder. “Or did he have help like you?”

“I think we need to find out,” Steve said.

“Should I suit up?” Stark bounced on his heels, looking eager. “Bring the little jerk in?”

“We don’t even know where to find him,” Steve said with no little exasperation. “And we don’t know if he’s a hostile. We certainly don’t have any reason to kidnap him.”

“We aren’t SHIELD,” Banner said, looking serious and a little too calm as he fiddled with his glasses. “We shouldn’t just grab people be-because they’re different.”

Stark looked properly chastised. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know I didn’t-“

“I do think we should find out more about him,” Steve interrupted. Stark and Banner would have to work this out later. ”So we can make an informed plan of action.” He glanced at Banner, “Even if the plan is to do nothing.” Banner nodded and put his glasses back on, turning back to the screen.

“We need intel.” Steve looked to the two spies in the room. “Find out what his play is.”

“On it,” Romanov spun on her heel. “He seems to come out at night, I’ll map the areas he’s most likely to show up.” She glanced at Barton as she passed. “You’ll like this, he tends to travel by rooftop.”

“You seem awfully informed,” Stark called after her. “Looking for a new mate?” 

“I’m assuming we’re keeping Fury out of this?” Barton asked, heaving himself up to follow her and ignoring Stark.

“As much as we’re able,” Steve nodded staring at the screen. “I don’t want to throw an ally to the wolves accidentally.” 

As much as they all worked for SHIELD, none trusted the organization to do the right thing without prompting.

 


	2. Party Crasher

“I should’ve stayed downstairs,” Steve muttered.

He’d squirrelled himself away to a dark corner of the bar, relying on his old battle instincts to protect him. He had a wall to his back and a full view of the top floor room Stark was hosting the party in. He was billing it as the first and last time for visitors to see the exclusive penthouse. After this party only the bottom twenty floors would be accessible to the general public, and that only by employees of Stark and invited guests.

A woman walked by in a dress that had a back open right down to the curve of her rear and he took a quick sip of the coke in his hand to hide his reaction. He still wasn’t used to the clothing of this era. Hardly any of the men were wearing ties, and their shirts were untucked, and their pants were all too big. Except, he thought watching a young man pass by, when they were ridiculously tight.

He felt out of place in his dress uniform, overdressed and awkward. He shifted his shoulders in the stiff fabric, he hadn’t had a chance to break it in. It was actually a replica, Stark had it made for the event. It was anachronistic, frankly a bit disrespectful, and he wasn’t exactly in the service any more. But he didn’t have much choice. Besides the shield any of his possessions that had survived to modern day been relegated to museums and personal collections. It was a little disturbing when Barton showed him an online auction for one of his old helmets going for half a million dollars. His wardrobe consisted of a couple of T-shirts, pants and his uniform, all ‘gifts’ from Shield. 

“C-can I have your autograph?” A pretty blonde, a bit on the skinny side, tottered over to him in a short dress that looked to him more like underwear and a pair of shoes that looked like torture devices.

“Oh, uh, sure…” Steve took a breath, put his soda on the bar and reminded himself that everyone here had paid a lot of money for a meet and greet with the majority of the Avengers… Banner had been the only one excused, due to his condition. And that Stark had promised to match all money raised.  And the money was going to go to help rebuilding some of the less affluent areas of the city. He glanced to her hands. She had a pen… “Have something for me to sign?

“Yeah,” she smiled, cat-like, and leaned forward pressing herself against him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and moved a spaghetti strap to the side. She pressed the pen into his hand. “Me.”

“Ma’am!” Steve tried to back up, but his plan had backfired and now the wall and bar were penning him in.

“Put your clothes on, Crystal.” A wry voice piped up from behind the woman. “Steve, we need you for some publicity shots.”

Pepper had never looked more like an angel to Steve. “Right away, Miss Potts.” He started to edge away from the woman.

“I’ve told you a million times, call me Pepper, Steve.”

“My name isn’t Crystal,” the woman pouted, clutching at his arm. “And I don’t have his autograph yet.”

“Oh, sorry, Tiffany? No? Amber? No? No. Okay, I’m out of party girl names.” Pepper shook her head. “Whatever.”

She plucked a cocktail napkin from the bar and handed it to Steve. He quickly scrawled his name, long practiced at autographs from his performing monkey days, and thrust it at the brazen woman.

“Ma’am,” he said with a firm nod and walked past her to take Pepper’s waiting arm. He waited until they were out of earshot, which wasn’t long withe pounding noise Stark claimed was “music” piping through the speakers. “Promotional photos? I thought we took those earlier.”

Stark had suited up, Natasha and Clint looked dangerous in formal wear versions of their battle outfits. Natasha’s belt was encrusted with red crystals, Clint had complained bitterly that he hadn’t gotten any new bling on his. Stark settled him down with the promise of a new bow. They’d even dressed up Bruce in a lab coat and pulled out a big cardboard figure of the Hulk for him to stand in front of before allowing him to escape for the night into his lab. They had to take two sets of photos, one with Steve in his Captain America uniform (a new one, again) and one with him in his dress uniform. Stark had stepped out of his suit in a tailored tux for those shots. It had been nothing short of torture, and it was an experience he wasn’t ready to repeat any time soon.

“No worries,” Pepper said leaning into his arm briefly. “Candids only for the rest of the night. I just thought you looked like you needed a rescue.”

“Thanks for having my back, Miss-” He ducked his head and quickly corrected himself. “Pepper.”

“Hey! Hey! No canoodling with my Pep!” Stark said coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her stomach. He physically lifted her away from Steve and twirled her in his arms. “This shing-ding is great, good job.”

She turned and gave her boss boyfriend a peck on the cheek. “Oh? Do I get a 100% credit for this one? I notice plenty of additions to this party I didn’t plan.” She cast a significant glance towards a bevy of ‘party girls’ along the style of ‘Crystal.’ They squealed and waved when they saw both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers glance their way.

“Every party can use a few more decorations,” Stark grinned and waved. “Besides, I figured Capsicle might want to finally melt a little and enjoy himself. Go get ‘em, Eagle One.” He punched Steve lightly on the shoulder. He hugged Pepper to him and jerked his chin towards the girls. “Ask one of ‘em to dance.”

“Thanks,” Steve said through gritted teeth masquerading as a smile. This was a little too similar to incidents in his past, and it made his skin itch. Besides, he was uncomfortable with the way Stark was behaving.

The other man was well on his way to becoming drunk, and was being awfully hands-y with Miss Potts in public. He couldn’t understand why Stark seemed to enjoy making such an ass of himself. But he wasn’t the only one. Steve glanced at the “dance floor.” It looked to him more like the people there were engaged in acts that should only happen in the bedroom, between two people who love each other.

“But, no thanks.” He sighed and turned to Pepper. “I was thinking of retiring for the evening. It’s starting to get late.”

“It’s not even midnight!” Stark protested. “It’s early. Party Pooper.”

“Tony!” She tried to pull away from him, but his arm around her waist restricted her movement. “I think it’s okay, Steve,” Pepper reached out and patted him on the arm.

Stark pulled her closer again and frowned at her and they traded funny faces back and forth, a whole conversation in expressions that Steve couldn’t follow. He shifted and looked around, feeling like an intruder on a private moment.

“Yeah, whatever,” Stark said with a sniff after one very pinched look from Pepper. “Go watch Matlock or something, Old Man.” He gave Pepper an affectionate peck on her neck and disentangled himself from her. “I’m going to go set up Senator Davidson with a few decorations, might make getting permission for a helipad a bit easier.” He turned in a circle and walked away backwards from them. “Of course, it might be even easier if the Living Legend here was willing to schmooze a little. You know, the other Living Legend. The one besides me. Not naming any names. Okay, just one. Steve.”

“Good luck,” Pepper called as Stark and turned stalked away. She turned back to Steve. “Go on, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be either. Clint disappeared hours ago, and Natasha-“

“Oh! Oh! Wait!” Stark came prancing back waving his hands. “I almost forgot, I promised to introduce you. Don’t go yet, Gramps!”

“Tony,” Pepper started to scold, then saw who followed him. “Oh, Rhodey!” She broke into a huge smile for the lanky black soldier, also dressed in dress uniform. “I didn’t know you could make it tonight.” 

“I just got here and I’m only here for a short while. I’m just in town for the night then they’ve got me on the move again.” He took her two hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.

Steve glanced at the man’s chest. He was well decorated, a man who had seen action. He still didn’t know much about the wars that had followed his, but he knew that war certainly hadn’t gotten easier in the decades since. 

“You’ve got to come by next time you’re on leave, it’s been too long.”

“Yeah, we’ll make a party out of it. Cook up some steaks,”  Stark grinned. He glanced at Steve when he shifted again. “Right. Introductions.” He waggled some fingers between his friend and Steve. “Captain America… meet a true American hero. Rhodey.” He made a face at Rhodey. “You know who he is, right?” He jerked a thumb at Steve. “I mean, who doesn’t?”

“You’re terrible at introductions, man,” Rhodey said with a shake of his head and a familiar exasperation. 

“He is, but I’m not,” Pepper said, shaking her head. “Captain Steve Rogers, this is a very good friend of Tony's and mine, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes.”

“Rhodey,” the man said, holding out a hand and looking at Steve with a sense of awe that made him uncomfortable. “It’s an honor, Sir.”

“Steve,” the blond said, giving the man a firm handshake. “And the honor is mine. Always a pleasure to meet a man who serves his country.” From the number of bars and medals, this man had made a living out of it. Not an easy life to live.

“I’d be honored to buy you a drink,” Rhodey’s voice isn’t quite stable. “My father used to tell me stories about you, and your team.”

“Dude, open bar,” Stark broke in between them. “Besides, Iceblock doesn’t drink.”

“Tony!” Rhodey sighed. Stark started to open his mouth again.

“I will take a cola,” Steve interrupted. It was a little thing to do for a person, and it looked like it would mean a lot to the man. 

“Great,” Stark said clapping both of them on the back. “I’ll get the drinks. You guys find a table.” He pointed at Steve, “Let me guess. No ice?” He didn’t wait for an answer stalking off into the room. 

Pepper found them a quiet corner with a small table and had them drinks way before Stark returned. Stark had of course gotten distracted along the way, he was in his element at a party. The frenetic atmosphere seemed to charge him as much as it drained Steve. He’d gone into the crowd to get drinks and ended up lost in it for at least an hour.

For that hour, it was the first time since he woke up that Steve was actually  enjoying himself a little. Pepper and Rhodey were both good and genuine people. They’d obviously been friends for a long time, and Pepper was quick to set Rhodey at ease in his childhood idol’s presence.

Once the man relaxed, and the shine wore off, the he was as easy to talk to as Pepper. He, like many others, was quickly amazed by how little Steve knew of the common era. They took to comparing war stories, not the serious ones…not anything about great losses or wins. Fun stories. Stories about things that could only happen in the army, when you were crammed with too many men in too small a space, and stories of the familiar pain of boot camp then and now…

“Thought you were going to bed,” Stark said, coming by with refills. He grinned as he handed Steve his.

When Steve sipped it he could tell it was spiked. Cute. Not that it mattered, he didn’t drink because the alcohol didn’t have an effect on him and the taste wasn’t something he found pleasing. But he was pretty sure that Stark didn’t know that.

When Stark started to join them, Steve decided he’d had enough. He didn’t have quite the low opinion of Stark he’d had before the battle with Loki. The man had proved himself a true hero of the highest caliber, able to do what needed to be done no matter the sacrifice. But he still didn’t exactly like the guy. He couldn’t understand him, or suss out his motives. And he was just so..

So..

Stark.

He didn’t understand how a man so abrasive and self-absorbed had such good people as Rhodey and Pepper as friends. There was something he wasn’t seeing. He didn’t know if he had the patience to find out what it was. He knew for sure he didn’t have it tonight.

“Aw, time to take your Metamucil?” Stark said as Steve started to stand.

He didn’t understand the reference, but he assumed it was another prod at his ‘advanced’ age. Stark had been on the same subject since they’d met. “Ye-

“Sir.” JARVIS interrupted. “Mr. Barton has an urgent message.”

“Put it through,” Stark and Steve spoke in unison.

Stark frowned at Rogers. “That’s _my_ AI you’re ordering about.”

“Something’s happening on the roof.” Barton’s voice cut off any response from Steve.

“What kind of something?” Steve asked, already moving towards the balcony.

“Pep.” Steve glanced back at the seriousness of Stark’s tone. “Get these people out of here, and stay back.”

She started to shake her head in denial but he made another one of his faces at her and her shoulders slumped. She pressed her finger to her ear, “Security, I need you,” she said and strode away back into the party. She glanced back at Stark. “Stay safe.”

“I’ll help,” Rhodey said and followed her.

“Hawkeye,” Steve said focusing back on getting outside. “What kind of  _something?”_

_“O-M-G, Captain America.”_

“What?” Steve asked, looking around. Had he missed something?

“I’m thinking he’s talking about the light show.” Stark had followed him out the doors and was already looking up. He stroked his bracelet. “I don’t want to call it while there are still people in the room.”

_“Iron Man!”_

“Not a good idea right now, Clint,” Stark said blowing a raspberry.

“What?” Barton asked.

JARVIS’s speakers were doing a number on Clint’s voice, making him go soft and loud randomly. _That’s not like Stark technology,_ Steve thought. “Too much chance of an accident,” he explained.

The newest version of the suit could be called from any level of the tower, and would exit from the nearest accessible port. The current nearest accessible port was just behind the bar.

It had seemed a good idea at the time. 

Those thoughts were secondary to the idea that they might want to get back under cover quickly… because it really looked like lightening might hit the tower at any moment. There were some very interesting rainbow colored clouds forming a strange funnel shape. It was not quite a tornado, and the clouds were moving at an odd pace, both too fast and too slow to be natural.

Before he could voice the thought there was a loud crack of thunder and lightening spread like veins across the sky.

“This seems a little familiar,” Stark said. “Maybe we should-“

There was a second crack of thunder, loud enough to force Steve down to one knee in surprise and a concussive blast that kept him there. Stark fell flat on his back.

“COMRADES IN ARMS!” The booming voice could only be coming from one person. “I HAVE RETURNED TO MIDGARD!” Thor, in full battle regalia stepped over and clasped Steve’s arm and pulled him to his feet with a grin. He turned and did the same for Stark who had made it to one knee at that point. He looked past the two men into the room still crowded with people, most of whom were gawking at the window.

“A celebration?!” He shook his long hair over his shoulder and clapped a heavy arm around each of the men and gave them a squeeze. “Is this in honor of my return? But how did you know? Perhaps you have used one of your magic screens to look into the future, friend Stark?”

“Uh, they don’t really work that way, L’Oreal.” Stark pushed Thor’s arm off his shoulder with an affectionate pat. “So what brings you down to Earth, Fabio? Alien destruction squad or gotta pose for another book cover?”

“You speak so strangely, friend,” Thor hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked down at the two men with a furrow between his brows. “Am I not welcome in the Tower Avenger? I have been following its progress with the aid of Heimdall, who had said that all my brave companions from the battle with my brother were now residing together here. I thought you awaited my arrival.”

“So no invasion then,” Stark said and a little bit of tension seeped out of both him and Steve. “And yeah, of course you’re welcome here, Muscles. You just caught us by surprise.”

“EXCELLENT!!” Thor cheered and slapped them, each hard between the shoulder blades. “Let us celebrate my return with drink and good cheer!”

_“Thor. Wow, Thor!”_

“And who is this?” Thor asked, looking at a point halfway up the peak of the building. “A new companion?”

“What? That’s just-” Steve looked up expecting to see Barton perched somewhere in the beams of the building.

Instead, pressed up against the wall of the building was Spider-man, holding a little point and shoot camera.

_“Uh…”_ Spider-man said, his voice muffled by the suit. He lowered the camera.  _“Hi.”_

Barton dropped out of nowhere to land in front of them in full battle gear. He had his bow drawn and cocked at the man somehow stuck to the side of the building like a real spider. Natasha was suddenly there as well, positioned slightly in front of Stark, pistols drawn.

_“Wow. It’s…uh…all of you.”_  He raised his camera and snapped a picture.  _“Wait, someone’s missing…where’s the Hulk? I’d looove to get a group shot.”_

“JARVIS, find an unobstructed path and get the suit to me. Now.” Stark stepped back and away from the rest of the group.

“Right away, Sir,” JARVIS replied.

“Is this a new foe?” Thor asked spreading his feet into a more stable position and grasping Mjolnir’s handle. “He is quite tiny.”

_“Hey! I’m not looking for trouble,”_ Spider-man said quickly, raising his other hand.  _“I’m just a fan.”_ He waggled the camera. _“Sorry for crashing the party.”_

He was small, Steve reflected. Up close, Spider-man couldn’t have been too much larger than his own pre-serum days. The voice sounded young too, which made him wonder exactly what they were facing. Behind him he heard Stark’s suit snapping into place, transforming him into Iron Man. Spider-man backed up a little and snapped another picture.

_“Whoa. Cool.”_

“Why don’t you come down here,” Steve called. This was getting ridiculous. One man had some of the world’s most powerful fighters huddled together like a bunch of scared sheep.

“Cap,” Romanov said under her breath, just loud enough for the huddled Avengers to hear. “At least one news source has been claiming him to be dangerous. I don’t know if you want to offer to sign autographs for him.”

“At least not while you’re unarmed,” Barton agreed, keeping his arrow trained on Spider-man.

Steve suddenly realized that the group had shifted so that he was at its center. Hawkeye and Widow in front of him, Thor and Iron Man flanked at each side. He wasn’t used to other people shielding him. 

“Can you call your shield to you?” Thor asked. “You may have need of it if this becomes a battle.”

“Let’s try to prevent that,” Steve said firmly. Spider-man was fidgeting on the wall, making tiny moves backwards. “Come down now.”

“Yeah,” Stark said. “Come down and join the party.”

_“I thought this was a private party,”_ Spider-man said.  _“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”_ He backed up a few more inches and compressed himself closer to the building as if trying to meld with it. 

“Come down before I shoot you down.” Barton pulled his bow taunt.

_“Hey now,”_ Spider-man said, letting his camera dangle from it’s wrist strap _,_ as he raised his hands.  _“Let’s talk-“_

“Watch the hands-” Black Widow started, but it was too late. Spider-man twisted his wrists and white streams of a sticky something shot out.

Thor grabbed Steve and twisted, shielded him with his body. “What manner of strangeness is this?” He said trying to shake off the strands and only succeeding in gluing his cape to his face with the stuff and his hair to the back of his neck. He tore at his cape trying to get an unobstructed view.

Natasha had rolled to the side, and Clint hadn’t been in the line of fire allowing him to loose an arrow. It struck where the Spider-man had been just a moment before, and gave a bright burst of light.

“Fast little bugger,” Stark said launching himself into the air to chase the man scrabbling further up and away from them. “I’m faster.”

_“Hey now,”_ Spider-man called over his shoulder.  _“Is this really necessary? I just wanted a few pictures.”_

“What for?” Natasha changed his trajectory with a bullet directly in his path. “Who are you working for?”

_“Um, me?”_ Spider-man said, jumping out of Iron Man’s reach almost carelessly, once and then twice. It made Stark look like a cat grabbing for a string. Spider-man perched on a ledge and craned his neck at Iron Man who was angling for another grab.  _“I thought you said you were faster.”_

“Enough of playtime,” Stark said shortly and lifted his hand. The light on his hand started to brighten.

_“Hey now!!”_  Spider-man yelled in a panic and lifted his own hand. The thin man shot a moment quicker than Stark, and his hand became encased in thick white webbing.

“Yeah. That’s not good-” Stark said and then his hand blew up. He went spiraling backwards in the air, over the ledge of the building.

“Thor, catch him!” Steve yelled and the huge man leaned backwards and began to swing his hammer. “Natasha, Clint, pin him down!” He pointed at Spider-man.

They immediately complied, both shooting off a volley of ammo that the man improbably managed to avoid while shooting out two streams of webbing at Iron Man. The ropes of webbing caught the spiraling Iron Man on a shoulder and a knee before Thor could launch himself for a rescue. Spider-man tugged with a grunt.

_“Whoa,”_ Spider-man gasped.  _“Time to lay off the sweets, man. You’re heavy.”_

Switching both strands to one hand he shot out a wide net of webbing between the architecture of the building. Stark landed in the net and stuck, looking for all the world like a red-and-yellow fly stuck on a web.

_“Sorry about all this,”_ Spider-man said, sounding out of breath. He shot out a hand, a stream of webbing arched into the air and then he was swinging away.

Barton stood and followed the man soaring on the line with his bow, shooting arrow after arrow. But before any could hit, the man would shoot out another line of webbing and narrowly avoid each shot.

“How is the little shit doing that?” Hawkeye muttered standing and refusing to waste more arrows.

“Should I follow him?” Thor asked, looking at Steve and hammer ready.

Steve shook his head. It was time to regroup. He turned to the man still stuck on the web. “Stark?”

“Yeah. Can’t move.” Stark sounded peeved. He was doing small fires of his repulsors, the one working hand and his feet, trying to pull himself free. All he accomplished was making the web flex and bounce.

“Your hand?” Steve swallowed. Was Stark in shock?  He looked at the hand that had blown up, expecting to see a bloody stump.

“Fixable.” Stark said and waggled fully formed fingers encased in a black rubbery glove at him and surrounded by twisted metal flowering around the arm. “Backfire was always a possibility, I planned for it. Worried, Cap?”

“Oh, thank god.” 

The face mask came up on the suit. “Hey! I told you to stay back,” Stark said to Pepper.

Pepper stormed up to the web. “And I told you to stay safe!”

“I am safe!” Stark said kicking a little and making himself wobble. “Safe as houses. See?”

“You nearly went over the side!”

“Thor would’ve caught me. You remember Thor, right? Thor, Pepper.” He waggled his fingers back and forth between them. “Pepper, Thor.”

“Allow me to help you disembark,” Thor said with a genial nod towards the woman. He still had a corner of his cap stuck to his face and hair, though he’d pushed it back over his head in a strange twist. He looked like he was wearing a red velvet burka. He stepped forward and grasped Stark’s unexposed hand and tugged.

Stark didn’t move. The web gave a little but relaxed right back into place when Thor stopped tugging. Thor frowned.

“Hold on,” Stark began. “No, wait-“

Thor jerked back hard, stepping back and pulling Stark towards him. Unfortunately, the web merely flexed and stretched with him. Thor took a few more steps back. 

“Hey! Mr. My Hammer is Smarter Than Me!” Stark started to sound panicked. His hand writhed in Thor’s grip. “Ever hear of a slingshot?”

“Okay,” Pepper said and reaching up and patting Thor on the shoulder. “I think you should stop now. Ew, what is this stuff?” She tried to pull her hand back but it was now stuck to his shoulder along with his cape and hair. She was dragged back with Thor as he continued to pull at Stark. “Stop! Stop now!”

“Thor!” Steve said, using his most commanding “army” voice. “Stop!”

“But I have not yet freed the Man of Ir-” When he stopped tugging and relaxed his arm physics took over and the web snapped back into place, carrying the surprised Norse god who still gripped Stark’s hand with him. Pepper unfortunately was along for the ride. 

“Pepper!” Stark yelled as the two were pulled off their feet and into the air to land in the web along side him. “Pepper!”

“I…I’m okay.” Pepper said, her voice calm and serene. “I’m upside down. But I’m okay.”

Barton, Romanov and Steve stared at the web, now holding Stark, Thor and Pepper in its clutches. Pepper was indeed upside down. Steve was just glad the woman was wearing one of her tight pencil skirts, and that the web had a good grip on it as well as her, holding it in place. Thor was caught face down and twisted in his cape, but seemed uninjured. Pepper’s hand, still glued to his shoulder seemed almost comforting.

“I told you to stay back,” Stark muttered.

“Don’t. Even. Start.” Pepper said.

Romanov turned on her heel. “I’m going to go get Banner.”

“I’m going to get a camera,” Barton said.

“Hey, Robin Hood!” Stark started struggling in the web again. “Don’t you dare!”

“No need, Sir.” JARVIS’s crisp British voice managed to sound amused without any inflection at all. “This incident has been recorded in its entirety. I can make it available in the following formats, dvd, blu-ray, digital download, IMAX 3-D, Hologr-“

“Mute!” Stark yelled. “Traitor. I’m going to reprogram that bastard.”

Steve looked around and snagged a patio chair. He slumped into it. He knew he should have stayed in his rooms tonight. He looked back at his teammates, and ran a tired hand down his face. “And we managed to save the world.”


	3. Sustenance

Thor was not a polite eater. He crammed the turkey sandwich in his mouth in two large bites. “Another?” He asked hopefully around a mouthful.

“I guess I can go make more-” Steve started to get up, a little grateful for something to do.

“Here,” Pepper said sliding hers around to Thor with her free hand, the other still attached to Thor’s shoulder. She gave Steve a tight apologetic smile. “I’m not very hungry. The salad is plenty.” She awkwardly stabbed at a tomato with her free hand.

The team had ended up convening in Banner’s lab while he examined the webs that still clung to Pepper and Thor. The guests were all gone, and the press handled, and it was some indeterminate hour of the early morning. They’d tried for hours to remove Stark, Pepper and Thor from the web, with no luck until it inexplicably dissolved on it’s own. They’d taken Pepper and Thor down to Bruce’s lab, and the others followed.

“I could have made you a sandwich,” Stark sniffed. “I can make a suit that flies. I can make a sandwich. Or a salad.”

“You probably would have put strawberries in it,” Pepper snapped.

“You’re never going to let that go-“

After a few hours of watching Banner and Stark bounce off each other as they tried to figure out the webs, Steve had taken Thor’s complaints about needing sustenance as an excuse to escape for a few minutes. He’d had JARVIS lead him to the kitchen (A kitchen? There had to be more than one) and had made some sandwiches for everyone, and a salad for Miss Potts. She seemed to eat a lot of those he’d noticed. It was probably why she was so skinny. Plus chopping the lettuce and vegetables had been calming.

“This stuff is amazing,” Banner said from where he had his face buried in a complicated microscope. When Thor raised his eyebrows at Banner’s half eaten sandwich he passed it over without looking.

“Glad we’re entertaining you,” Stark snapped as he fiddled with what looked like a replacement for the hand of his suit. “Wouldn’t want you to be bored.” Pepper had told him to stop working on the webs when he’d gotten so frustrated that he’d thrown some very expensive equipment through a glass topped table. Steve didn’t think much for Stark’s impulse control.

Thor looked at Stark’s untouched sandwich and quirked his eyebrows. Stark frowned and moved it out of reach of the large man.

Banner raised his head just for a moment, giving the room a distracted, apologetic smile before disappearing back into the microscope. “I can’t figure this stuff out. It’s…It’s quite ingenious… I can’t find anything that will cut through it that wouldn’t also be a danger to Miss Potts-“

“Pepper,” she tiredly corrected.

“P-pepper,” Bruce stumbled over her name. “But it’s also showing signs of breaking down on it’s own, like the web. I-I just don’t know how much…mmm,” He was distracted by something in his viewfinder, “Oh, that’s… um, I don’t know how much longer it will take. I have answered a few questions…”

“Is it biological?” Romanov asked, setting aside her Stark-Tablet. Barton stayed focused on his. It was showing a loop of Spider-man evading his arrows. None were willing to leave the lab until their teammates were free.

“Please say no,” Pepper begged tiredly.

“No,” Banner gave another diffident smile, sitting up and straightening his back. “It’s definitely a man-made polymer. It’s composition keeps changing chemically, a slow but unsteady reaction. That’s…that’s why it’s so hard to get a handle on. It does seem to take inspiration from spidersilk, the same way that Kevlar does. It’s many small strong strands that wrap and …and weave together to make a much stronger hold. Each strand can bend and flex, and if one breaks it simply binds to another piece.”

“Maybe we should use it to make you some pants.” Stark snorted, “Or a least a shirt. You know, for those days when you’re feeling a little… rage monster-y.”

“That’s… that’s actually not a bad idea.” Banner’s eyebrows drew together and he dove back into his microscope. “If I could figure out what it’s made of-“

“So we’re dealing with another freakin’ genius,” Barton muttered. “One with eyes in the back of his head. Great.” He shifted in his seat, eyes still glued to the tablet. “Show me the news reports.” The tablet began showing scenes of Spider-man, fighting cops, fighting crooks… Romanov shifted to look over his shoulder and they started a hushed conversation marking landmarks that showed up more than once. They were working on narrowing the areas the Spider-man tended to lurk.

“Don’t pick at that,” Pepper scolded Thor when he began to tug at the cape still stuck to his cheek. “You’ll just end up scratching yourself.” The skin was already irritated where he’d tried it before.

“It itches,” Thor complained with a frown.

“That’s a good sign,” Banner said, scribbling something down on his pad. “That means the chemical composition is changing again, and it will be breaking down soon.”

“Oh good,” Pepper said and rested her head against her arm (and by extension Thor’s). “I’m going to sleep for a week.” She made a face. “Wait. No, I’m not, there’s a planning meeting tomorrow. At eight. Shoot.”

“JARVIS,” Stark said.

“Yes, Sir?” 

“Cancel the planning meeting tomorrow. Any any meeting ever that is before ten AM. That should be a rule from now on.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“No! JARVIS!” Pepper tried to stand and was pulled back when she tried to step away from Thor. “Disregard!”

“Of course, Ma’am.” 

“Hey, you listen to her over me?” Stark griped.

“In business matters? Always.”

“Traitor,” Stark muttered. He stared hard at Pepper, “But I’m serious about tomorrow. Cancel it. It can wait.”

She stared back at him, but this time she backed down first. “JARVIS, reschedule the planning meeting.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Stark smiled.

He glanced over at Thor, and one battle won he decided to start another. “So, Lady Lovelylocks, why did you decide to come back now?”

Thor glanced around as if Stark could be speaking to anyone else. 

“Yeah, you,” Stark put his glove down and faced the large man. “Why tonight? The tower’s been done for a month. I got Bruce to stay during construction, Captain Spangle-Spanx moved in right after it was finished. And the Assassin Twins came only a week later. What took you so long?”

Thor looked at Romanov and Barton. “I did not know you were related.”

“We aren’t,” Romanov said, shooting Thor a glare. 

“Hey, avoiding the point!” Stark said snapping his fingers to get attention. “You said you were watching us, so you had to know that. Why now?”

“Is this important?” Steve said tiredly. He didn’t sleep much these days, but it was getting close to five am. Stark looked like he could go for eight more hours. He didn’t know where he got the energy.

“It’s a fair question,” Romanov said and cast a cool, considering glance at Thor. “From the SHIELD reports about travel between Asgard and Earth, it’s difficult and power intensive… possibly impossible without use of something as powerful as the Tesseract.”

“There are ways…” Thor said, shifting uncomfortably.

“But none of them easy,” Stark interrupted. “And you can’t just go home on a whim, can you? I thought you’d want to do some R&R in the mead hall before heading back here.”

By now everyone was staring at Thor. Even Banner had pulled his head from his microscope long enough to listen in.

“My Father,” Thor looked at his hands, and for a big man he suddenly looked very small, “The All-Father, handed down his judgement of Loki.”

“Oh yeah? What did Chuckles get? Spanking by Daddy?” Stark’s face was thunderous. Steve could see the shade of Coulson standing behind his back pressing down on all of them to ensure that a proper punishment was meted out to his killer.

“My brother is bound to a jagged rock in the deepest pit of Asgard with chains of iron, where everyday a venomous snake drips poison in his eyes. His eyes burn and melt, only to heal again so that it may happen again with the next drip of the snake’s fangs. So he shall stay for all time, until he admits his wrong-doing and is suitably repentant for his actions.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“I’m okay with that,” Barton said.

Romanov nodded. “Yeah, that works.” 

It was Thor’s turn to look angry. “Loki’s deeds, both here and in Asgard, were evil and many. I do not begrudge you your need for vengeance. But,” and he looked down again at his hands, and his shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted and silly with his cape stuck to his face and wrapped around his hair, “he was my brother, from birth my one and true companion. I loved him and did him wrong, in ways I did not understand until he became this twisted thing because of it. I could not see him thus.”

Pepper leaned against the shoulder she was stuck to and patted him with her free hand.

“So you ran away to Earth,” Stark said.

“Yes,” Thor said simply.

“Okay,” Stark shrugged, and handed him his sandwich.  

Thor took it and nibbled at it’s edges, appetite apparently lost.

“Pepper,” said Stark, and Steve wondered if he could even  _be_ quiet for five minutes.

“What _now_ , Tony?”

“Your hand is smoking.” He looked over at Banner. “Should it be doing that? Is it okay that it’s doing that?”

“Does it hurt?” Steve jumped to his feet and everyone took a step closer.

“It’s dissolving!” Banner said, pulling out his slide and looking at the smoking goop that was starting to drip off of it. He slid it back under and went back to examining it.

“Oh!” Pepper lifted her hand and the now goopy webbing stretched with her. “I think I can almost-” She pulled her hand back and the goop slid off in drips on to the floor. “Napkin?” She asked stepping away from Thor.

Steve handed the one he hadn’t used when he’d eaten his own sandwich and she quickly wiped her hand clean of the remnants of the spider web.

“Do me a favor?” She asked the room. Everyone looked at her expectantly. “When you catch the little Spider, kick him once for me? Right in the shins.”

“Sure thing, Pep,” Stark nodded.

“Thanks. I’m going to bed,” she sighed. She looked at Thor. “Want me to show you your floor?” 

“Thank you,” the large man said, standing and peeling the cape from his face and finger combing his hair to try and get the last of the goop out. “Is there a bathing chamber there?”

“Yes, fully stocked,” she hooked her arm through his and led him out. “Can I ask what you usually use on your hair. It’s got great body-” The door closed behind them.

“That’s my cue,” Barton said stretching. “Spider only comes out after dark, so I’ll be heading out at dusk.” He glanced at Romanov. “You coming with me, Tasha?”

“Mmm,” She said watching one last loop of Spider-man heading away from the tower on her tablet before looking up. “I think we should start with Brooklyn.” She nodded to the room, “Night, Cap. Bruce.” She and Barton filed out of the room.

“I don’t get a good night?” Stark called as the doors were closing. 

“Good night, Tony,” Banner said with a yawn. “My samples have all dissolved, and JARVIS is calculating the data.”

“Is that a hint?”

“No, it’s me telling you directly to get out of my lab so I can go to bed,” Banner tucked his hands in his pockets. “I can..get a little…mmm…” He shrugged, “cranky if I don’t get enough sleep.” 

“Oh. Really?” Stark looked interested. “How cranky?”

“Out,” Banner said firmly.

“Fine.” Stark grabbed his glove and started out. “Coming, Cap? It’s way past _your_ bedtime.”

Steve looked up from where he was gathering together the sandwich plates. “Yes, I just want to wash these.”

“Okay,  _Mom,_ ” Stark said, rolling his eyes. “You know I have robots for that.”

“I don’t mind doing them,” Steve shrugged. He didn’t know how clean a robot could really get a plate.

“C’mon,” Stark grabbed the plates from his hand and stormed out of the lab.

“Goodnight,” Steve said to Banner as he hurried to catch up.

“Night,” Banner replied, shaking his head. He turned out the lights to the lab and retreated to the simple bedroom on the other side of it.

“This way, Sir.” JARVIS didn’t wait to be asked this time. He lit up some panels down one side of the hall. “The elevator will take you to your floor.”

“Where did Stark go?” Steve asked, looking over his shoulder. He’d disappeared. 

“Mr. Stark has returned to his lab.” A door opened and there was an elevator inside it.

“Doesn’t he ever sleep?” Steve asked as he stepped inside. The elevator started moving down, and he was startled. He thought his rooms were above Bruce’s. This place confused him terribly.

“Not as much as he should, Sir.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“Your floor.”

Steve stepped out and blinked. Floor. Pepper had said something about Thor having a floor too. “JARVIS…” he said trying to figure out exactly how to ask this. “Are all the rooms on this floor…mine?”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve really wanted to know it managed to sound surprised without any inflections. “You didn’t realize?”

“No…” He looked down the hallway at the doors he’d assumed would be rented out to other Stark employees, or maybe used to house future Avengers (he doubted Fury would be happy with this small a team). The door he went through led to a 1940’s style boxing gym, similar to the one that SHIELD had housed him in. And on the left of that a one bedroom apartment. He’d have to explore the other rooms at some point. He didn’t know what Stark expected him to do with all the space. 

He wasn’t like Banner, he didn’t need that big of a work area, or a shooting range like Barton. He wondered what Romanov did with all her extra space. It seemed somehow appropriate for Thor. Did Pepper have her own floor too? Or did she share Stark’s? 

Steve shook his head. He was just going to take a shower and forget about it for the night. 

But he found he couldn’t turn his brain off that easily as he settled into his narrow cot. He lay in bed and his eyes wandered over his room, cataloging: Army issue bed, like the ones he’d been sleeping on during basic… but with a much better mattress and a softer blanket. A simple night stand with a clock with a face, not a glow-y digital one. A beat-up wooden dresser, with a doily on top and a china plate as a ‘catch all.’ A square mirror with a plain wooden frame hung above it. The room was comfortable… familiar. 

Steve realized that there was a reason he liked to stick to his quarters. It reminded him of ‘home,’ his old apartment of Brooklyn. The walls were eggshell, with a border of blue stripes. The floor was wood, but not shiny or new. He found most modern rooms to feel too big and painted in garish colors, but this room had a lower ceiling and muted shades. There weren’t any windows, none of the interior rooms had them. But there was a screen that was programmed to look like one. It matched the time of day and weather outside. 

He rolled over and looked at it. It was showing pre-dawn grey light, and it looked like it might be a rainy day today. Stark had said he’d added the screens because human brains needed a sense of nature, environment, in order to feel comfortable. But it didn’t show a picture of modern New York, something Steve hadn’t really noticed before.

It was a smaller skyline, a less glossy and sleek one. And it wasn’t even the right part of New York. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was the street he grew up on. He turned away from the window screen. 

“JARVIS?”

“Would you like a bed-time story, Sir? Some hot milk?”

Steve sighed. Pepper had explained to him that JARVIS wasn’t a real person somewhere hidden in the tower, but an artificial intelligence that Stark had created. He didn’t know if he always believed it. Sometimes he thought everyone was playing an elaborate prank on him, and some day a panel would open and a droll Englishman would pop out and introduce himself.

“Who designed my room?”

There was a long pause, as if JARVIS was choosing his words.

“I believe it is a replica of a Gimbel Brother’s showroom piece, with some slight modifications. I don’t believe the designer was named.”

“No,” Steve sighed, rolling on his back and staring at the ceiling. He was certain JARVIS had known what he was asking. “Who chose to decorate my room this way, with the pictures… and everything?”

“Mr. Stark employed several designers who worked on interior design. I believe the name of the designer for this room was Claudon.”

“So it was Claudon who decided to make it look like…when I’m from?” Steve asked, certain that JARVIS was playing word games now, and what kind of machine did that?

“I believe that decision was made in the planning stages, and Claudon was hired for that purpose.”

“Who made the plans?”

“The planning board, Sir.”

The muscles of Steve’s whole body were one big knot. What the heck was JARVIS trying to hide?

“And who,” he bit out, “was on the planning board?”

There was a long pause that made Steve imagine the hidden Englishman perhaps adjusting a monocle as he tried to think of a way to avoid answering.

“The executive board.”

Bastard.

“And who is on the executive board?”

Another long pause, but finally the answer he’d already come to suspect. “Mr. Anthony Stark. Miss Pepper Potts.” Another pause. “Will that be all, Sir?”

“Yes,” Steve mumbled, and rolled over. “Thanks.”

Stark had designed this. Pepper was a very nice woman, but in that partnership Stark was the idea man and she was his go-to girl. He thought it up, figured out how to make it, she made sure it got done right.

Steve rolled his shoulders and settled deeper into the mattress, and stared at the American Flag framed under glass on the opposite wall. He hadn’t thought much of Stark’s offer to move in the Avenger’s tower. He’d agreed more to get away from staying at SHIELD, where every agent looked like him like he was some sort of God and whispered whenever he passed.

But this room had been concieved of, planned, designed,  _made,_ all before Stark had made the casual offer after one of the seemingly never-ending debriefing meetings at SHIELD.

“C’mon… it’ll be fun. Bruce is already there. It’ll be like a clubhouse.” They stood outside of Stark’s private jet, which was refueling for the ride home.

“Banner stuck around?” He hadn’t been to the meetings, so Steve had assumed he’d disappeared to some far off climate again. He wondered if SHIELD knew. That was a stupid question. Of course SHIELD knew.

“Yeah, we’ve been making science together.”

“Is that what you call it?” Pepper asked coming down the narrow walkway. “I call it making a mess. They’ve blown up two labs.”

“I’ve got more,” Stark grinned at her. “The tower has… how many floors?”

“More than you need,” Pepper rolled her eyes. “Sign this.” She held out a blue folder.

“What’s this?” Stark asked but was already signing.

“Do you really care?” Pepper asked. She looked up at Stark with a smile, and then glanced at Steve. “You really should come. I could use someone to talk to that doesn’t speak in equations all the time.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve said, but he’d ended up on the flight back to the Tower unable to resist the power duo. Plus, it pissed off Fury when he’d been pulled into the conversation. He’d been a bit uncomfortable when Stark and Pepper looked shocked at his one suitcase, his bike and the shield strapped to his back. 

“That’s it?” Stark had asked. Steve just nodded. He’d never been a rich man, and he didn’t expect he ever would be but he felt that old childhood shame of not being dressed quite right among his friends. For once, Stark didn’t poke fun or quip. “Great, we can make it in one trip. Load ‘er up boys.”

The conversation had seemed so casual, so unscripted and unplanned. Steve shifted uncomfortably, starting to drift to sleep despite his efforts. What was Stark playing at?

 


	4. Intelligence Report

The second meeting they had about Spider-man wasn’t in the Family room. This meeting was regulated to one of the big rooms with the terminals and the long meeting table. They’d barely kept it from Fury that one scrawny man in a unitard had taken down his elite Avengers. No one wanted to be there when he found out, especially if they didn’t know anything other than he was some guy in a mask. And more than that, for a lot of them it was personal now. 

Stark start could be set to “Stark Raving Mad” by just pulling up a photo of him stuck on the web. Plus, Pepper had been on that web, upside down, for  _hours._ You didn’t mess with Pepper and not expect unholy retribution from Stark, and the other Avengers were quickly coming to feel the same way. They’d even involved her in this meeting, she had as much right as anyone to get her pound of flesh.

Barton and Romanov… the Spider-man had managed to foil every one of their super spy ways. In the past month they’d had a couple of close run-ins as they tried to track him, but he’d always gotten away. Barton hadn’t been able to hit so much as the man’s shadow and he was not. taking. it. well.

Thor was just eager to fight a worthy foe. Stark’s armor was heavy, and Spider-man had pulled him in one handed. Spider-man might look puny compared to the Asgardian, but Thor was eager to test his mettle. The longer they took to find him, the more time Thor spent in the large training hall Stark had built for him. Steve was starting to worry that Thor wouldn’t hold back when they did find him, which could be deadly for Spider-man.

It wasn’t as urgent for Steve. Sure, he wanted to figure out the mystery of the Spider-man. The newspapers were split on the matter, some naming him the newest masked hero to the city, others claiming him a villain with a body toll. But there wasn’t anything out there that was for ‘sure.’ Even the police currently only wanted him on ‘questioning.’ Steve wanted him firmly sorted into friend or foe, but he didn’t want revenge. The rest of the team did, with the exception of Banner, who just wanted to pick Spider-man’s brain about that compound. It made Steve nervous.

“We’ve found him,” Romanov said with a faint, satisfied smile.

“About friggin’ time,” Stark muttered. “Some super spies…”

“I’m telling you,” Barton snapped, “That kid’s got some kind of pre-cog! There’s no other answer for it!”

“Pre-cog?” Steve asked. 

“Precognitive abilities,” Banner said, “Psychic abilities that allow a person to see the future.”

“Is that a thing now?” Steve said, sitting up straight. “I know Hitler was working on something like that-"

“It’s not!” Stark interrupted. “Bird-boy just doesn’t want to admit that he’s met his match.”

“Fuck you!” Barton slammed his hand down on the table. “You’ve watched the same intel I have, the little bastard reacts  _before_ I even shoot!”

Stark blew a raspberry and pulled a face, rolling his eyes. “Sure-"

“We’re getting off topic, people!” Steve said standing. Barton and Stark both sat back in their chairs. Stark twisted his lip in a mocking sneer and made a point of turning to Steve and giving him is full attention. Barton just gave a glare and tore off the top sheet of the paper pad he’d brought along in apparent stress relief. Satisfied the two would be quiet for the moment, Steve looked at Romanov. “Continue.”

She nodded and flicked a picture off of her stark tablet onto one of the big screens. “At approximately 8 pm last night we discovered this bundle webbed to a wall in Queens, inside the identified hot spot of Spider-man activity.” She flicked another photo. “We debated leaving it alone and waiting for the Spider-man to return, but given our track record in containing him-“

“OW!” Stark clapped a hand to the side of his face. “Hey! You saw that right?” He pointed at Barton.

Steve looked over at the other man, who’s hand moved off the table, clutching what looked like a paper blowgun.

“That’s unfair!” Stark said pointing at him. “I’m not in my suit. I’m unarmed!”

“Clint,” Romanov said with a glare before Steve could say anything.

“Yeah,” He nodded, unapologetic. “Go on, Tash.”

“Hey-“

“One. More. Word-” Romanov said to Stark, “And I will send Fury a still of you on that web.” 

Stark sat back and tried to look contrite. “He started it.”

Romanov flicked to a new screen, calling up her email. She hadn’t gotten past “fury.nick02@” when Stark was making faces and miming that he’d be silent. 

Satisfied with the change, she picked up as if she’d never left. “We decided to examine the bundle, we were able to draw the items out through a small opening, and we believe he was unaware of our examination. Inside we found a one t-shirt, one flannel long-sleeved shirt, and pair of jeans, sneakers and a backpack-“

“So we know he doesn’t know that grunge is dead-” Stark started, but mimed a zipper over his lip. Romanov just raised an eyebrow at him. He was quiet for all of two seconds before miming “unzipping” himself and asking. “But what does this matter?”

“We also found one wallet,” Barton drawled. 

“With ID,” Romanov said to a now silent and attentive room. She flicked her hand across the screen, and a new picture took its place, a high school ID. “Meet Spider-man.”

“Jesus,” Stark said softly.

“He’s just a kid,” Steve said.

“He’s a _baby,_ ” Pepper corrected. “According to his birth date… he’s only 14!”

“A-are you sure this is him?” Banner asked, putting his glasses on and peering down at his own Stark tablet that was mirroring the large screen. “This Peter Parker?”

Romanov cast him a glance as if you say, ‘are you kidding?’ before continuing. “We hacked into the high school’s database and staked out his home from a safe distance.”

She flicked again, and this time a video feed started. It was pre-dawn, birds were chirping and all the houses were dark. Along the street a young man walks, carrying a backpack and yawning. He glanced around and turns down the path to a house.

“So we know he lives there and he stays out late. That doesn’t prove any-” Stark started. 

Instead of going to the front door of the brownstone, the scrawny young man gave another glance around and then scaled the wall up to a second story room, Spidey-style.

“Oh.”

The room was silent for a beat.

“I saw a Midgardian entertainment where children were able to perform magic, is-“

“Harry Potter isn’t real, Thor,” Potter said and patted him on the arm. “That’s not normal.” 

“I’ve done some research…” Banner murmured, almost to himself, as he flicked through the information on Parker Romanov and Barton had compiled. “… there have been some stories surfacing about a spontaneous mutation that seems to be occurring primarily in teenagers…”

“Mutation?” Steve prompted when the Doctor fell silent as he examined his screen.

“A…A change at the cellular level, causing radical deformities ap-appear, sometimes a complete change in appearance,” he tapped his tablet and then flicked up and a before and after picture popped up of a boy, the first photo a normal boy, the second the same boy with green skin and yellow lizard like eyes. “Some rumors say a portion of th-those afflicted gain super abilities.” He tossed up another photo, this one grainy of a boy who seemed to be shooting some sort of energy beam from his eyes, destroying a stand of trees. 

“So this kid might be a mutant?” Stark asked. “What causes it?”

“Th-the rumors are unconfirmed, but puberty seems to be a trigger. He’s…he’s the right age.”

Steve stood again, his mind whirling a how strange the world had become in his absence. “But it’s less important to find out  _how_ he can do what he does, than it is to find out  _why._ ” He reminded them. “Is he a hero or a villain?”

“Hello!” Stark waved his hand. “Did you forget? He attacked our tower! What are you, getting senile?”

“He didn’t attack it,” Steve reminded him. “He took some pictures and then ran away when we caught him.”

“Pictures he  _sold_  to the Bugle!” Stark yelled. The Daily Bugle had scooped the world with its spread on the return of Thor, complete with a photo of a surprised group of Avengers looking up. The fact that Barton had been pointing his arrows at the photographer hadn’t gone unnoticed, and had taken some fast talking to SHIELD to let it drop. Stark had claimed it was a flying camera drone, which he was then forced to invent as proof.

“So?” Steve asked, exasperated. He was getting sick of Stark’s anger over a bit of pride lost. He wasn’t thinking rationally about all this.

“SO that makes him a Paparazzi! And all Paparazzi are evil! Ergo-” Tony paused for dramatic effect,miming with his hands from one side to the other, “Spider-man is evil!”

“What?” Steve asked, “A pepperoni?”

“Paparazzi are aggressive photographers who stalk and take pictures of celebrities and sell them for money.” Pepper explained. “They are pretty evil.”

“Please don’t you start, Pepper,” Steve sighed.

“I’m not saying Peter is,” Pepper corrected. 

“Peter?” Stark said sitting back. “We’re on a first name basis with Mr. Parker, are we?”

“He’s a  _baby,_ ” Pepper repeated. “And Steve’s right-“

“Of course he is,” Stark said throwing up his hands, “He’s  _Captain-Fucking-America!_ Of course he’s always  _right!”_

“Captain,” Thor said turning to Steve, confusion clear on his broad face. “Are you one of these “pre-cogs” of which Friend Barton spoke of-“

“No, Thor,” Steve said tiredly. “And I’m not always right.” He sent a glare at Tony. “What else do we know about this kid-” He held up a hand before anyone could start talking. “Facts only, please.”

Romanov nodded and turned back to the screen. “Our background information is a bit sketchy-“

“Some spies,” Stark muttered.

“But,” Romanov glared, “this is what we know. Parker currently lives with his great Aunt-“

“Parents?” Steve asked.

Romanov shook her head. “It’s a bit unclear. I was unable to find any official obituaries, but according to the school records his parents have been deceased since he was five-“

“Poor baby,” Pepper murmured.

“May Parker, his great aunt, is his sole living relative and his legal guardian. About three months ago her husband was killed in a robbery gone bad.”

“Poor baby!” Pepper exclaimed.

“Oh, please,” Stark said, folding his arms over his chest. “Join the Dead Parent Club.” His comment was more petulant than cutting, and he looked away from everyone’s stares.

“Could be why he’s doing… all this,” Steve said gesturing to some of the other screens in the room, showing loops of Spider-man’s activities.

“Or it could be that now he’s just not watched as closely with the old man out of the way,” Stark countered. He looked at Romanov, “Is he implicated in his uncle’s death?”

“No, the robber was identified by witnesses at the scene, pursued by the authorities, and died an accidental death.” She flicked up a newspaper clipping on the event. “It was a straight forward event. Ben Parker was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I still say the kid is suspicious,” Stark griped. “The Daily Bugle says-“

“The Daily Bugle is about as reliable as Fox News!” Pepper cut him off. “None of their allegations have any proof behind them.”

“You _like_ him!” Stark accused. 

“He’s just a _baby!”_   Pepper threw up her hands.

“A baby who can lift cars, scale buildings with his fingers and tippy toes, swing across the rooftops on WEBS! WEBS, Pepper!” Stark stood and leaned over her. “I thought you wanted to kick him in the shin!”

Pepper stood and got nose to nose with Stark. “That’s before I knew he. was. a. BABY!”

Stark threw himself down in his chair and pointedly turned it away from Pepper in a full on pout.

“Sorry, Natasha,” Pepper said, taking her seat again. “Please continue.”

“There isn’t much more. This kid has no record, not even a detention-“

“There was one record,” Barton flipped up a school incident report, “he got into a fight at school, before his uncle passed. Broke another kid’s arm.”

“According to student witnesses, he was defending himself. The other boy’s file is full of reports of bullying.”

“He’s…he’s quite intelligent too,” Bruce piped up, not lifting his eyes from his tablet. “Straight A’s since elementary… honor roll… some recommendations here that he should have been skipped a grade or… um… five. He’s already taking college credits on the side.”

“Oh, why don’t you and Pepper join the Spider-man fan club?” Stark muttered.

“So,” Barton said, folding up some squares of paper and launching them idly in the air with a flick of his fingers. “What’s our play on this? Do we bring him in? The cops do want him for questioning…”

“I would enjoy an opportunity to test the Spider’s skill in battle!” Thor said eagerly.

“Thor!” Pepper admonished. “How can you think of beating up on a little kid?”

“He’s a  _bay-beeee,”_ Stark said in a fake falsetto.

“He’s a dangerous baby.” Romanov set down her tablet. “Regardless of his motives, he’s a loose cannon.”

“Can’t we…um, can’t we just talk to him?” Banner asked. “I would like to ask him about that polymer…”

“That worked so well last time,” Barton sniped. “Didn’t end up with half our team stuck on a web for a couple hours or anything.”

“That… That seemed mostly because _we_ were attacking _him_ ,” Banner had that tight smile he got when he was trying very hard to stay even and calm. “All of his attacks were defensive, not offensive.”

“Et Tu, Bruce?” Stark said clutching as if he’d been stabbed.

“Enough,” Steve said, standing again. “We don’t know enough to judge this boy… but we do have the advantage. He doesn’t know we’re aware of his secret identity.”

“We have to do this carefully.” He gave each person at the table a long look, making sure they understood. He turned back to Romanov. “I want you and Barton to continue your surveillance of Parker. Intel only,” he said firmly, looking at Barton alone this time. “ _No one_ is to engage Spider-man. Understood?”

“Understood, Captain,” Barton said with a frown. For all that he was taking the situation a bit too personally, Barton was a solider first. He’d follow orders, as long as they made sense.

“So we’re just going to let the little shit go?” Stark said incredulously.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “We’re not letting him off the hook. But we need to know more about him before we approach him.” He nodded to Banner. “Banner is right, we should talk to the boy… but as Peter Parker, not Spider-man.” He looked up at the ID photo. “For some reason he doesn’t want the world to know about his abilities, which means we have an advantage over him.” He shook his head. “But it’s the only advantage we hold right now. We need to wait for the right moment to let him know we’re aware of his secret identity. Until then, we continue gathering information, we look for an opportunity to make contact that won’t reveal how much we know. We’ll be able to get a better sense of his character if he’s not on the defensive.”

“You’re sneakier than I thought,” Stark said, giving him a considering look. He didn’t look down at his tablet as he scrolled through the other information Romanov and Barton had gathered, making flicker and flow in the air above them.

“I was made to fight secret Nazi organizations,” Steve reminded. “You don’t take down Hydra posts by just barreling in.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not usually.” He sat back down. “I wasn’t just a symbol.”

There was a long uncomfortable pause, and Steve felt that perhaps he’d said too much.

“We know that, Steve,” Pepper said and reached forward to pat his hand. She looked up at the information above them. “Stark Industries sponsors a few scholarships…”

“Can you print out the information on them for me?” Steve asked. He still wasn’t used to reading on the little tablet screens. He wanted something he could take notes on, with a pencil.

“Sure,” Pepper nodded.

“So what do the rest of us do?” Stark asked. Steve was surprised that Stark seemed to be looking for orders.

“For now, nothing. Continue with your normal day-to-day operations.” He wondered for a moment what that was for most of them. His consisted of working out in his gym, and reading history books trying desperately to catch up. “We plan.” 

Truth be told he was feeling a bit itchy and claustrophobic, it had been a long time since he’d been without some sort of mission. If the others were feeling the same it could explain why they were so invested in this investigation into Spider-man.

Steve stood, making a split second decision. One truth history had shown over and over was that bored soldiers were dangerous soldiers. “Romanov, if you come across any of Spider-man’s tech, please pass it on to Banner for processing. See if you can’t find out, discretely, how he’s producing those webs.”

He looked to Barton, “Spider-man may become suspicious if we completely take off all pressure.” Romanov and Barton had been pressing the boy hard, and usually at least had a brush with Spider-man every couple of weeks. “Do a controlled engagement with him, don’t let him know we’ve found him. It’s important to keep him confident in his secrets. Use this as an opportunity to better gauge his abilities, but don’t actually catch him.”

“Yes, Sir!” Barton grinned. 

“Stark. I’d like to meet with you for training sessions, along with you, Thor.” 

The big man grinned. 

“Wait a minute!” Stark held up his hand. “I don’t need any training.”

“There may come a time we need to contain this boy,” Steve said firmly. “I need you to make some new tech that can help counteract his abilities. And we three need to find a way to combine our strength in a way that won’t… destroy half the city.”

“I guess I can play around with a few ideas,” Stark said. His eyes had lit at the words “new tech.” He tried to hide his enthusiasm with a careless sniff. “I do have a company to run as well, you know… just a little family business… the largest global multicorp… no big deal.”

“Oh, Tony, like you have anything to do with that?” Teased Pepper. “I’ll go get those copies for you, Steve.”

“Let’s work out a rotation for surveillance,” Romanov said to Barton, standing and gathering her tablet. “I’ll take Parker. You take Spider-man.”

“Works for me,” Barton nodded, standing and following her to the door. “It will give me an opportunity to study his fighting style, and figure out how best to engage him.”

“If…if you come across any more webbing remnants,” Banner said, hurrying to catch up. “Can you gather a sample for me? I’ve analyzed the data from the samples we gathered before…but I’d like to try some additional tests that hadn’t occurred to me at the time.”  

“Sure thing, Doc. I have an idea for some new arrows, based off some of his tech.” Barton said doing a quick flick across his tablet. “Do you think you could help make something like…”

Banner leaned forward, “Mmm… I’m more theoretical than application. Tony, could you look at this?”

“What, Cupid wants some new toys?” Stark said, launching himself out of his seat. “Let’s see what we got here…” He snatched the tablet from Barton’s hands, and flicked up a wireform of an odd looking arrow, “The aerodynamics on this would be weird. But with a little modification-” He threw the tablet back at Barton and started walking as he fiddled with the arrow in the air. “Pepper, I’m going to the lab!” Banner and Barton chased him as he began to speed walk down the hall. Romanov went the other direction.

“I’ll email you the schedule, Barton,” she said. She glanced at Steve over her shoulder before she ducked out of sight. “I’m going to go bug the kid’s house, no one should be home at the moment.”

“You have a meeting at three!” Pepper protested, trying to catch up with Stark.

“Friend Stark!” Thor stood, his booming voice chasing the retreating man. “When will we be able to train as our Captain has requested? I would like again to test my hammer against your armor.”

“Pepper, handle that,” Stark said, disappearing with Banner and Barton into an elevator.

Pepper threw up her hands in consternation. “Fine. I’ll just run things, like usual.” She looked up at Thor, who’d come to loom over her eagerly. “Let’s just find a space for you in the book, shall we?” Thor nodded and walked with her to the elevator. “Steve, should I just let you know when to be available?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Steve nodded. “I’m at your service.”  

She smiled and she and Thor disappeared into the next elevator.

Steve found himself alone in the meeting room, at a loss. He’d given his team a mission, and they were focused again. But he’d left himself at loose ends.

He looked up at the screens surrounding the room, still showing endless loops of Spider-man, and then back at the floating photo of a gawky teen. He felt a sudden need to take a look at the boy in person. He checked his watch. It was barely noon, the boy would still be in school. 

“JARVIS,” He said standing. “Can you lead me to my motorcycle?”

“Yes, Sir.” JARVIS replied and opened the elevator. “Shall I program your GPS for Midtown High?”

Stark had insisted Steve let him install one in his helmet after having to call JARVIS for directions one too many times. He wasn’t going to ask how JARVIS guessed his destination, he was starting to take it for granted that the AI knew all.

“Yes please.”

 


	5. First Encounter

Steve parked his bike a discreet distance from the school and wandered through the neighborhood. Trying not to gawk at how the city had changed over the decades, he still felt more at home here than he did at the Tower. This was a working class neighborhood, like the one he’d grown up in. People raised families here, and worked and toiled for a living. This is the kind of place he’d imagined he’d end up after the War.

There was a small diner on the corner across the street from the school, and Tony went in for lunch. The cost of… well everything was still shocking to him, and he spent a lot of time deliberating if a grilled cheese sandwich was really worth eight dollars. He could have had steak every night, for a week, before… He’d only brought twenty with him, which had seemed exorbitant at the time now seemed like not enough. Pepper had said that he could use any of the little plastic card things in place of money, just about everywhere, but that seemed ridiculous to him. Who’d take a plastic card and a promise to pay it back from a stranger over cold, hard cash?

Finally he decided to just get a cheeseburger, even if it was the most expensive item on the menu, because it wasn’t like it was his money anyway. He wasn’t sure if the money and cards came from SHIELD or Stark but he didn’t like owing either of them. He had to find a way to get some independence. He might have to get a job… if that was even possible. The world moved so fast, and other than being “Captain America” he didn’t really have any marketable skills.

The waitress brought the cheeseburger, and the smell of it was just heavenly. Maybe it actually was worth nine dollars. He lifted the burger and smiled a little. He knew that meat shortages were a thing of the past, but this still felt like a luxury. 

“I thought you put Natasha on surveillance,” Stark slid into the booth across from him.

Steve sighed and put his hamburger down. “I thought you were working on tech for Barton.” 

“Got bored.” Stark smiled at the waitress and tapped the table when she held out a menu. “I don’t like things handed to me.” He winked at her. She dropped it on the table and promised to be back in a moment.

“What’s that about?” Steve asked, flicking his eyes to the menu and up again. He took a bite of his burger. 

Stark flipped open the menu. “Just a peeve.” He looked up and called over to the waitress. “What he’s having, and a milkshake too.”

“The milkshakes are four dollars!” Steve pointed out.

Stark just stared at him, “They’re $3.95.” He leaned out of the booth again. “And one for my friend here too!”

“Stark!” Steve protested.

“Live a little,” Stark stretched out on his side of the booth, looking odd in his expensive suit. “It’s just a milkshake.”

_It’s just food, clothing and a place to live. And a motorcycle, with a helmet with a heads up display and JARVIS. It’s just a team to lead…_

It made Steve feel small to accept all this charity. But that was his problem, not Stark’s.

“So why are you here?” Stark grinned at the waitress as she dropped off the cheeseburger and shakes. 

Steve shrugged. “A bit of cabin fever, mostly,” he said honestly. He glanced at the school. “And I just wanted to get a look at the kid. You?”

“You’ve never left the Tower before,” Stark shrugged. “I was curious.”

Steve started at that, nonplussed. “Yes, I have!” he thumped his helmet. “That’s why you gave me this, remember?”

“Yeah, you’ve gone out grocery shopping,” Stark said around the straw in his milkshake. He chewed on it as he continued speaking. “Which I have people for you know-“

“Yeah,  _you do._ I don’t,” Steve said shortly, stabbing a french fry into his ketchup. It was a matter of personal responsibility. It was the same reason that he didn’t allow maids in his quarters.  _I wonder if they’ve been cleaning the rest of the floor. I bet it’s gotten all musty._  He hadn’t gotten the courage up to explore yet. Opening those doors made them “his.” 

Stark sniffed and picked up his burger. “Yeah, I’m just sayin’, mi casa es su casa and my help is your help.”

“Mi casa-?”

“My house is your house, but in Spanish.”

“I don’t want… help,” Steve muttered. “Not that kind.” He looked up and stared at Stark.

“What?” He said around a mouthful of burger.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat… besides the shawarma.”

“Yeah. Takes up too much time,” He took another bite.

Steve shook his head. The man didn’t sleep or eat…he was amazed he’d lasted this long. He made a note to ask JARVIS more in detail about Stark’s habits and health or Pepper, they were the only one’s close enough to know his habits intimately. The suit did a lot of the heavy lifting for Stark, but in an extended battle his body might give out and leave him vulnerable. He probably needed to be put on a calisthenics routine as well as a diet to shape him up. 

Stark glanced towards the window. “Oh, hey look, escapees.”

Steve checked his watch. “School isn’t out yet.”

“Hence, they are escaping their classes.” 

“That bunch,” the waitress said, seeing their attention. “Bunch of brats. They come in every day for lunch and never tip. Always take up my tables and just make pests of themselves.”

“What are their parent’s teaching them?” Stark said with mocking horror. 

“Not manners, that’s for sure,” She shook her head, then faked a smile as the gaggle of students came in.

“Hey, Flo!” A large blonde haired boy called over to the waitress. He had a pretty cheerleader type with him. The other boys in the group all looked big and beefy, and they were wearing team jackets. Steve guessed they were probably all from the football team.

“Hi Flash,” the waitress called back. “Your regulars?”

“Yeah, Flo!” Steve noted that her name badge read “Mary.”

“Flash Thompson?” Steve asked the waitress.

“Yup, pride of the Panthers,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“You follow high school sports?” Stark asked, his eyebrows flaring up.

“That’s the boy Parker got in a fight with.”

“That moose?” Stark wiped his mouth, his hamburger done. When he did eat, he ate fast. “Well done, Parker.”

“Speaking of which…” Steve said looking out the window.

“Hmmn, didn’t take him for the type to cut classes,” Stark said. “What do you think the chances are he’ll come- oh. Here he comes. Act natural.”

“He knows what we look like, Stark,” Steve hissed. The boy probably wouldn’t have noticed Steve if he’d been by himself. Outside of his Captain’s uniform, both the red, white and blue and his dress uniform, he actually blended fairly well. Stark though, stood out like a sore thumb.

He grabbed a dessert menu and buried his attention in it. There was still a fair chance the boy wouldn’t notice them. He’d chosen an out of the way booth, and the little diner was full of students and locals. Unless Peter was looking for them specifically… There was still a fair chance Steve hadn’t blown this mission completely.

He glanced at Stark, who was casually drinking the remains of his milkshake.

“What?” Stark shrugged. “He either notices us or he doesn’t.”

“Hey Mary,” Parker called as he came in, all knees and elbows. He was wearing jeans that were scruffy at the bottom and the same threadbare flannel they’d seen in the video. “Did’ja remember to save that oil for me?”

“Sure did,” Mary called. “Though I don’t know what you’re going to do with a bunch of old cooking oil.”

“Science fair project,” Parker grinned as she walked behind the counter. “This one has cash prize. I’m going to make a green engine.”

“With cooking oil?” Mary shook her head. “I have to pot it up for you though. I thought you’d be coming after school.”

“I got a pass out for the rest of the day,” Peter said proudly. “Mr. Smith had an extra credit equation in calc you could solve for a free pass out of his class.”

“And you solved it,” Mary smiled. “Just like you.” Peter ducked his head and colored.

“So he wasn’t playing hooky,” Steve murmured. Stark shrugged.

“Hey, Puny Parker!” Flash swaggered over. “I thought I told you weren’t allowed in this diner?”

“Gee, Biff! I’ll have the homework done for you tomorrow!” Parker said in a nasally voice looking at Flash with exaggerated surprise.

Flash blinked, “What?”

“You mean we aren’t re-enacting _Back to the Future_? I couldn’t believe anyone would spout a line like that in _real life._ ” Parker spread his hands. “My mistake.”

Stark snorted and choked back a chuckle.

“You little shit,” Flash said and grabbed him by the collar, nearly lifting off the floor. 

“Easy, Cap.” Stark hissed, and Steve realized he’d started to stand.

“Flash,” Peter choked.

Flash shook the smaller boy, hard, and then dropped him.

Parker picked himself off of the floor. “You forgot to pound your fist into your palm menacingly,” he said dusting off his pants. “It’s bully one-oh-one. Minus ten points Slytherin!” 

“What?” Flash said pressing close to him again. “Are you still being a dumbass?”

“Actually, I believe I was being a smart-ass.” 

The blonde Flash had come in with tittered at that comment, and Flash’s face went red. His fist went up, Parker braced for impact.

“ _Cap,_ ” Stark repeated. Steve shot him a look. He wasn’t going to let the kid get beat on.

“Flash Thompson, what have I told you about fighting in my diner!” Mary said coming out of the back room. “Stop it now, or you’ll be banned.”

“Flash,” the girl said coming over and wrapping her arm around his. “C’mon… I don’t want to have to eat at the  _cafeteria._ Come back to the table.”

“Sure, Liz,” Flash said, after a long belligerent stare at Parker. He turned back to his friends. 

“Here’s your oil, Peter,” Mary said and handed him a large jug. “If you want more, just let me know.”

“Thanks Mary,” Peter and took it eagerly. He turned leave but kept looking at Mary, “I don’t know what I’m going to power the motor with… if I make something cool I may be b-“

Steve saw Flash’s foot jab out too late. 

“-aaack!” Peter actually managed to avoid the foot Flash put in his path, hopping on one foot and doing a pretty impressive pirouette. His foot came down on his shoelaces and he stumbled over a chair. He went down and the oil flew up and out of his hands. “No, no!” He grabbed for it.

Steve saw it. The moment the boy realized he  _could_ catch it, but had to let it drop to keep his secret. Because probably no one would connect Peter Parker’s amazing catch with Spider-man, but maybe someone would. He saw the resignation flash in the boy’s eyes and his fingers draw back just a hair to prevent catching the oil.

Parker landed hard, and the oil jug burst open dousing him. He lay there soaking in smelly fryer oil. “Shoot.”

“Oh Peter!” Mary gasped running around the counter and putting a hand over her mouth.

The other teenagers in the diner burst in to uproarious laughter. A couple were holding little devices up. Cellphones, portable telephones, Fury had given him a primer. But why were they holding the telephones like that…

“What are they-” Steve started to ask.

“Cameras,” Stark said shortly. “This will all be on Youtube before he hits the door.”

Steve didn’t know what a Utube was, maybe some kind of missile? Like a torpedo off a Uboat? Whatever it was, it was bad.

Parker’s face was resigned. He slopped back his hair and slowly rose to his feet. He slipped and slid a few times, which made his classmates laugh harder. He glanced at them and Steve could see the bright burn of anger and shame across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Mary,” He said apologetically. “I’ll… I’ll clean it up.”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter,” Mary said with an exasperated wave. “Just go home and clean yourself up.”

“Thanks,” Peter’s shoulders were hunched. He slipped and slid over the linoleum towards the door. He was very careful to watch his feet and not glance at the group of students still filming him. He paused at the door, and impossibly his shoulders dipped further.

“Um, Mary,” He said, looking over his shoulder.

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Can I come by for oil tomorrow? I, uh, still need it for my project.”

Flash thought this was the funniest thing ever. He clapped his hands as he laughed himself out of breath.

“Sure thing, Peter,” Mary said glaring at the unrepentant football player. “You get home now.”

“Thanks,” Peter pushed the door open and then promptly fell on his ass as his oil coated feet slipped out from underneath him. The students roared, and the boy finally shattered. He stood, pushed his way onto pavement and broke into a run.

Steve wanted nothing more than to march across the room and show those stupid kids what it felt like to have someone bigger and tougher than you get in your face.

“Let me just… take that,” Stark said and tugged at the crumpled dessert menu in Steve’s hands. He laid it flat and made a pass at it with his hand. “Yeah. That’s a loss.” He crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. “Sorry.” He said to the person sitting in the booth behind them.

He looked at Steve. “Breathe, Cap.” He looked up.

“Hey, Mary,” he called. “When you get a moment, could you get my friend here a piece of pie?” He gestured to Steve. “Apple? Yeah.” He sniffed. “Apple! Make it two.” He held up two fingers.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Mary called back.

“I don’t want any pie,” Steve muttered.

“Sure you do,” Stark replied breezily. “Oh, hey, we should call Nat.” When Steve just stared at him, he raised an eyebrow. “She’s bugging the kid’s house. The one he’s currently running home too?” He made a face. “I’ll do it.” He pulled out a mini-Stark tablet. 

“Hey Nat,” Stark said. “Yeah, I know you’re busy. Just wanted to let you know the kid left school and is on his way home.” He paused, rolled his eyes at Steve. “‘Cause I know. I do. Because maybe I’m a better spy than you.”

He threw himself back against the booth and flailed a hand at what ever Romanov was saying on the other line. “I saw him. Yeah. I’m across from the school. Nice little diner, great milkshakes.” He frowned. “No, I’m not trying to blow the mission. And when was this a mission?” He put his forehead down on the table in mock weariness. “ _Yes_ , Cap knows.” He said, his voice muffled by the table. ”Because he’s here with me.”

He sat up, “So that makes it okay?” He made a face. “Love you too.” He sighed. “Get out of the kid’s house.” He hung up the phone and sniffed.

Mary came by with their pie and took their dirty plates. They both waited for her to leave before looking at each other.

Stark looked up at Steve. “You calm now?”

Embarrassed by his strong reaction to the incident, Steve ducked his head. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Yeah, that moose is an asshole.” Stark dug into his pie. “This pie is great Mary!” he called out.

“Language.” 

“What?” Stark said around a mouthful of pie. 

“Could you tone down the language?” Steve shifted in his seat and looked around. “We’re in mixed company, and there are kids around.”

Stark looked around. “Believe me, the little fuckers have heard a lot worse than “asshole.” 

“Stark!” 

“Yeah, you’re going to have to get over that one,” Stark said, digging back into his pie. “That’s hardly a swear word anymore.”

Steve shook his head and dug into the pie. For a moment there was silence as the two men scraped their plates.

“I think the boy is a good egg,” Steve said finally, into his plate. He glanced at Stark and then back down.

“Don’t use puppy eyes on me,” Stark said shaking his head. “We aren’t calling off the mission.”

“I don’t use puppy eyes!” Steve said, straightening. “And when was this a mission?” he asked, unintentionally parroting Stark’s line from earlier.

“Since you sent Clint to ‘engage’ him as a test run, and Natasha to bug his house!” Stark said. “And you so do puppy eyes, all the time.” He did an impression, ducking his head and then lifting it with fake soulfulness.

“I don’t do that,” Steve said firmly, in his manliest voice.

“Sure you don’t. You’re like a big patriotic Labrador.” Stark shook his head, and licked a thumb, picking up the last bits of crumbs off his plate with it. He chewed on it a bit, as if trying to get every last bit of flavor. “Anyway, we still need more info, even if I agree with you.”

“You agree with me?” Steve said, with a piece of pie halfway to his lips.

“You and I both know that Peter could have taken that moose apart with his pinkie finger,” Stark pushed his plate away. “He _chose_ not to. He could be king shit at his school, and instead he keeps up the nerdy punching bag role. Someone in it for the perks wouldn’t do that.”

Steve remembered that flash of resignation he’d seen when the boy tripped. “Yeah.”

“But we still need to get a handle on him. Just because he thinks he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. The most dangerous men always think they’re doing the right thing.”

“I’m familiar with that one,” Steve said.

 


	6. Movie Night

Stark had finally gotten his movie night in the Family room. For the past three weeks the Avengers (and Pepper) had been assembling every Tuesday night, promptly at seven pm. 

But they weren’t watching old Captain America serials, or Star Wars, which Stark insisted Thor and Steve had to see, or Lord of the Rings, which Barton had been campaigning hard for, or even Pretty Woman, which Pepper had thrown into the ring. 

Instead the room sized screen was lit up with Peter Parker, high school student and part-time superhero. Barton and Romanov had collaborated to put together weekly debriefings on the kid. It had turned into a weekly screening of secret camera footage.

Steve thought Romanov had been put on the defensive with all of Stark’s cracks about her spy skills, and how long it had taken to identify Parker. She’d retaliated by completely blanketing the kid’s life in cameras. Not only were there multiple cameras in every room of Parker’s home, but she’d also bugged his locker at school and every one of his classes. She’d even managed to get a few in the main hallways.

Barton, always willing to play one-upsman with his fellow spy, had somehow managed to bug the suit itself. He wasn’t telling how, but odds were it wasn’t while the kid was in it.  It was a tracker, but also could record audio. The tracker let Barton get in range to record from a safe distance Parker’s night time activities.

“I’ve got the popcorn!” Pepper sing-songed as she sailed into the room, holding two bowls.

Stark followed her with two more. “ _We’ve_ got the popcorn.”

She just rolled her eyes and handed one to Barton, who was in his favorite seat in the top back. She handed her other to Steve who sat next to Thor.

“Cap brought sandwiches,” Romanov said from her seat in the middle of the room as Stark dropped one in her lap. She had the Stark tablet they used as a remote next to her sandwich plate and a can of coke.

“Mmphjg,” Thor said, mouth full.

“What?” Pepper said as she settled in next to Banner down in the front. Stark put the last bowl of popcorn on her lap before sitting on her other side.

“Roast beef,” Barton interpreted, and pointed to the table in the bottom corner piled with them. 

“There is mayonnaise or horseradish on the side,” Steve said helpfully. “I didn’t know what people liked.”

“Ohh,” Pepper cooed, thrust her popcorn at Bruce and hopped up to make herself a plate. “I swear, you’re trying to make us all fat.”

Last week he’d made a casserole, and before that a pan of ziti. Pepper continually complained about something called “carbs” and how they would make them all “fat,” but in Steve’s opinion she could use a little weight on her.

“Horseradish on mine,” Stark said, reaching over the gap to grab some popcorn.

“Pepper, would you mind making me a sandwich?” Pepper asked herself. “Please,” She added. 

“Why no, not at all,” Pepper answered herself, as she made up two sandwiches, “not since you asked so nicely!”

She walked the sandwiches over, and gave Tony a wry smile and a quirked eyebrow. 

“Thank you, Pepper,” Stark said contritely, while giving a mismatched smirk.

“Down in front,” Barton called. “You’re going to want to see tonight’s show.”

“Does Flash finally get a beat down like he deserves?” Pepper asked eagerly, as she squeezed back into her space between Stark and Banner.

“When did you get so blood-thirsty?” Banner asked. “I can recommend a few techniques to manage that anger.”

“It needs to be managed into Flash’s face,” Pepper said folding her feet up onto Stark’s lap and leaning against Banner, “with Thor’s hammer.” Banner tensed for a moment at the touch, then relaxed back into his seat, slowly and deliberately.

“Lady Pepper,” Thor sighed, grabbing another sandwich from his personal pile. “While you are a fine and capable woman, I do not believe you could lift Mjolnir. None but myself can do so.”

“Mmm,” Banner murmured, “Probably for the best.”

“Everybody ready?” Romanov asked lifting the remote.

“Dim the lights,” Stark said and waved a hand like a magician. The lights dimmed, proving nothing more than that JARVIS was always listening.

Romanov and Barton had really gotten into the cinematic aspect of their current mission. Steve wondered how long they spent editing together the mountain of film into a weekly serial worthy of the theaters. 

_That’s new,_ he thought as a jazzy instrumental followed a flow of students into the main hallway.  _A soundtrack._ It trailed off as Parker entered the school, running late as usual, and it cut to a hallway and Parker’s locker.

Teenage boys weren’t that hard to figure out, so even without the sappy instrumental that cued up next, it was clear when Parker’s crush entered the scene. She was a pretty blonde, and she was actually nice to him unlike the other students in class. At least she was when no one was looking. Peter turned into a complete doe-eyed moron whenever she was in a ten foot radius.

Steve didn’t like her. He recognized Liz Allan from the diner, where she’d been hanging off Flash’s arm and just as willing to laugh and point at Peter as the rest of her friends. She was nice to him because Peter shared his homework with her. He would have been disappointed that the boy didn’t have more sense, but he remembered what it was like to be a teenage boy too. Long legs and a pretty pair of eyes could really mess you up at that age.

Peter was handing her a sheaf of notes when sudden dramatic music crested and a hand landed on his shoulder. It was time for his daily dose of Flash bullying. 

“Boo!” Pepper called at the screen.

“I say he figures a way out of it,” Stark predicted. “He’s too smart to get punched.”

“No bet,” Barton snorted.

Flash had been trying to beat up Parker for weeks, but Parker kept worming out of it. He used an array of methods, humor, distractions, and when required, tactical retreats. He’d managed not to get beat up, no more than a gut punch or two in passing, but Flash was getting angrier and angrier with every encounter. When he did finally corner Peter, and he would, because bullies always found a way, it was going to be very bad.

It wouldn’t be today however. Peter got the attention of a teacher at just the right moment and made his escape into a classroom. The scene cut, and it was a montage (set to something peppy and happy) of Peter in school.

“You guys are getting too into this,” Stark snorted. 

“Blame Barton,” Romanov said with a shrug.

Peter did well in the hours before lunch, scribbling notes, and being engaged in his classes. At break he got his lunch stolen, and Pepper made more angry noises. Her angry noises turned to outrage as he got a bag of chips from a vending machine to compensate only to get those promptly stolen too.

“The boy does not eat enough,” Thor said, and picked up another sandwich. “How is he to grow if he does not eat? He is already so small.”

“He didn’t eat breakfast either,” Romanov commented. “He got in late the night before from patrol, and only got a few hours of sleep at most. He overslept.”

After his “lunch” break, Peter began to flag. He nodded off in two of his classes, and was rudely awakened by a teacher with no sense of pity. He slept through a study hall, and disappointed classmates in his chess club when he begged out of it.

He was so tired that he nearly walked right into Flash, who was waiting for him at the exit to the school. Peter had to do a little dancing to get out of the way, but he managed to escape the school without any physical damage. From the other Tuesday night screenings of Peter’s life, this wasn’t a common thing.

The boy made his usual rounds after school. He went first to the Daily Bugle, and sold some photographs of himself as Spider-man.

“He needs better negotiation skills,” Romanov snorted. “He could have taken those photos to another paper and gotten double.”

“Then the next time he tried selling them to the Bugle he could have gotten triple,” Stark agreed. 

“He’s fourteen,” Pepper reminded them.

“I was killing people when I was fourteen,” Romanov shrugged. “After worming my way into their confidence and trust.”

There was a beat of silence at this horrifying revelation.

“Well,” Stark said, just before it got truly uncomfortable, “not everyone has the same advantages as you.”

Barton snorted, and Romanov gave a tight smile.

After the Bugle, Peter went hunting through scrap yards and electronic stores for some bits and bobs that he spent the rest of the afternoon working on in the garage.

“I know not what the Spider-child builds,” Thor said with a heavy sigh. “It looks to be complex.”

“L-looks like your field of expertise,” Banner said to Stark.

“If I had to make a guess…” Stark said leaning forward, “Some kind of emitter? That bit looks like it reads gps.” 

“So a tracking device,” Steve said. “Why would he need something like that?”

“I think it has to do with those men who escaped him last week,” Barton said. “You remember, the ones with the weirdo costumes?”

“There were ten of them,” Pepper said, “he couldn’t be expected to catch them all.”

“The Spider-child takes much responsibility on his shoulders,” Thor said. “His sense of honor would not allow the villains to run free.”

“Did SHIELD have anything on those Bozos?” Stark craned his neck at Barton.

“Bozos?” Steve asked. He sometimes wondered if Stark was speaking English. He did know other languages after all.

“Clowns. Bozo was a famous clown from the 50’s,” Banner supplied. He often translated Stark-to-English for Steve and Thor.

“Not specifically,” Barton said. “I couldn’t get too much information with out raising questions we didn’t want to answer. Their logo is from a religious organization.”

“A cult, SHIELD calls them the Phoenix group,” Romanov added. “They worship the founder, believe him to be some kind immortal.”

“And they were ripping off that lab…because why?” Stark asked. Last Tuesday Spider-man had found a group of ten men systemically disassembling an Oscorp lab. He’d caught eight of them, but two had gotten away.

“Don’t know,” Romanov said as she watched Peter try to test the device just to have it die a sparky death. The boy sighed and started over. “Oscorp tried to hide what was in the lab, but it seems to have been related to genetic manipulation.”

“Super soldiers?” Stark asked, glancing at Steve. It was an easy leap to make. Oscorp had filled the void left by Stark enterprises in the military technology. The most coveted military tech was sitting in the room with them. Steve shifted uneasily, no attempt to replicate the super soldier program had ended well.

“Not exactly,” Barton shook his head. “We’ll have you have you eggheads look it over, but it looks more like a way to quick-heal soldiers, manipulating bodies back to a healthy state from previously irreparable damage.”

“That’s… actually kinda cool,” Stark said, and Steve could see his mind working. Stark Enterprises might be entering the medical field soon.

“If… if it works as promised,” Banner didn’t look as impressed. “How…how are they…?

“Nanobots I think,” Romanov paused the video feed. Peter had fallen asleep over his invention, which was adorable and sad. She flicked her fingers over the Stark tablet and view of the Oscorp lab from last week. She drew a circle with her finger on the tablet that was projected on the screen.

“This stuff,” she frowned at the noxious looking ooze in a vat. “Looks like a liquid, but according to the specs it’s just a binding agent for the self-replicating microscopic machines. Currently subjects have to be completely immersed in the liquid. We think that this was the Phoenix group’s main target.”

Stark sniffed. “Nano-bots are supposed to be small. If you need that many of them it completely defeats the purpose.”

“Sub-subjects?” Banner latched onto a different facet of the conversation. “They… they aren’t doing human trials?” His whole body was tense and stiff.

Romanov chose her words carefully. “Their records don’t indicate human trials,” she said. The whole room easily read through the lines. Records didn’t indicate it, but there was other evidence. She just wasn’t going to say so to Banner. Romanov was still cautious around the man.

Banner’s hands clenched on his knees. “Oscorp… isn’t known for having the best practices… They’ve been been fined and sanctioned half a dozen t-times…”

“I hear you,” Steve said and looked over at Romanov. “We need more intel on both the Phoenix group and Oscorp’s project.”

“SHIELD’s already on it,” Romanov said and held up a hand to forestall any protest. “They have more manpower than us.”

Steve nodded. Romanov and Barton were already on Peter practically 24/7, they could only be in so many places at once. “Can we get access to that information with out raising too many questions?”

The whole group had become protective of Parker in the past month. He was a good kid and they’d all had their bad experiences with government organizations. No one wanted that for him. They knew SHIELD had to be looking into Spider-man on their own, but the longer they could keep what they knew from SHIELD the better.

“I can,” Stark said with a grin.

“I can’t know that,” Romanov said. She was an Avenger, but she was still a SHIELD agent herself. It caused some conflicts.

“You didn’t hear a thing,” Stark said and waved a hand. 

She nodded and turned back to Steve. “We’ll pass on what we have so far to Stark and Banner.”

“Keep me apprised,” Steve said and indicated for them to continue.”We’ll keep an eye on them.” Banner relaxed a bit, but his hands were still clenched on his knees.

“Let’s move this along,” Romanov nodded and fast forwarded though Peter doing his homework and then being served a guilt-ridden dinner by his aunt.

“I spent a lot of time on that, you know,” Barton grumbled. Romanov sighed and went back to normal playback. There was a maudlin guitar solo playing over dinner.

Steve ignored it, watching the boy. He looked haggard and tired. He didn’t eat much for his one full meal of the day. He was too busy defending himself from May’s worries. She was putting a lot of pressure on him about his schoolwork, which was slipping, she’d gotten notes from a couple of his teachers.

“Jeeze, lighten up,” Stark complained. 

“He did get three answers wrong on his biology test,” Banner pointed out. “And his math grades are dropping exponentially.”

“He’s still the best student in his grade!” Pepper smacked Banner on the shoulder. “Cut him some slack.”

“The scholarship boards won’t,” Banner said calmly. “He…he won’t be competing with just students from his school for those.”

“What is the import of these scholarships?” Thor asked. 

As Banner explained the costs of the US education system, and the help available for those who strove to do beyond their means, Steve watched May continue to plead with Peter to talk to her. Steve couldn’t blame her, from what she could see the boy was falling to pieces for no good reason. He was withdrawing from his aunt, the few friends he had from school, his schoolwork. From May’s view it had to seem like her nephew was throwing everything away for no good reason.

“I know you miss your uncle-” she started.

“That’s not what this is about!” Peter said, slamming his hand down on the table and standing. “Just… just leave me alone!” He stormed off upstairs.

“Peter!” May called. “Peter!”

But Peter just slammed his door, locked it, and was tearing off his clothes. He’d taken to wearing his spider suit under his school clothes, which explained the long flannel shirts he wore every day. He was out his window minutes later, leaving May to start cleaning up dinner.

“The boy hardly ate,” Thor muttered.

“That’s what bothers you about this?” Barton asked from above. “That he didn’t get to finish his dinner?”

“The boy has not slept or eaten,” Thor said with unusual gravity. “His body has mortal needs that he is ignoring. He is spending his reserves faster than he can replenish them, like a candle being burnt at both ends.” He shook his head, golden hair fluttering. “A warrior must not ignore or mistreat his weapons, and his body is his most valuable. A blade tested past it’s limits will break when it is most needed.”

It was a surprisingly reasoned response from the large man. It was hard to see past the long hair, cape, constant smile and booming voice that there was a brain housed among all those muscles. Steve shifted uncomfortably next to him. They’d all been guilty of underestimating the man.

“Yeah,” Barton agreed.

They watched in silence as the view shifted from the closeness and impersonal views of the home cameras to the long views of Barton’s camera. Spider-man swung among the buildings for hours, rounding up petty criminals. He stopped a few muggings, webbed up a car thief, scared off some potential burglars by dipping low in a couple of swings. 

“I don’t like this music,” Pepper said when the playful soundtrack dipped into something with heavy drums. “This is ‘something bad is going to happen’ music.”

She no sooner said it then a gust of fire shot in front of Parker diverting him to a rooftop. He landed and was instantly surrounded by men in black with red logos on their shoulder.

“Phoenix group,” Romanov confirmed.

There were twice as many as Spider-man had faced before, and they had the element of surprise this time. He was holding is own, but just barely. His ability to avoid blows worked in his favor, but not when they were coming from all directions. He took a staggering fist to the face and for a moment disappeared underneath the crowd. He finally managed to shoot a web out and thrust himself out of the pack and onto a wall above them. 

He shot out two streams of webbing and three of his assailants were stuck to the ground. He shot out another web and went up higher onto a neighboring rooftop. He managed one more shot and felled another two men before the man with the flamethrower reappeared and Parker had to evacuate or burn.

Peter managed to rip the barrel of the gun away from the man as he swung to safety. It tore the hose that connected it to the liquid and suddenly the roof was on fire, as well as the man who’d been attacking Peter.

“Ho-shit!” Peter gasped, swung back and landed in front of the man. He shot out webs in two steady streams. Apparently the webbing was also a flame suppressant and both the man and the rooftop were soon out. He breathed a sigh of relief and rocked back on his heels.

He spun when three men tried to catch him and they were soon stuck up against the wall. He couldn’t avoid the other two coming from the other side, and he fell flat on the ground. He didn’t stay down, moving with impressive speed in a roll to the side. He hopped up and backed away towards a wall, shooting out webs that stuck the two men together.

There had been twenty men, now there were nine. He was still severerly outnumbered.

He swept one man’s feet out from under him and stood to web him over, but before he could one of the other men lifted a hand.

“Look out!” Pepper squealed.

The whole room braced for a gunshot, but instead two thin wires shot out. 

“Taser,” Stark said. “They want him alive.”

Peter did an amazing, Matrix-like move, bending over backwards. The taser-wires sailed harmlessly over his nose. He twisted and still bent backwards managed to shoot the man with the gun, his hands tied together and then his feet. Down to eight men…

Three more went down when he flipped over onto the wall and shot down. The odds were getting better, now five to one, but Parker was obviously tired. His chest was heaving and his movements were starting to slow. One of the men lifted another taser, and Peter shot out of reflex, not a wad of webbing, but one of his streams.

It caught the man’s hand but not enough to incapacitate him. Instead the black suited man grabbed the web and pulled. Spider-man wasn’t prepared and fell right into the middle of the pack.

“Crap!” Peter breathed and then there were just grunts.

“Oh, god, Peter!” Pepper gasped.

The remaining five set on him, one slamming into him with powerful body blow led with a sharp elbow. Another lifted two hands together an rained a blow on the down’d Spider’s back. A third man approached, he’d found a piece of steel rebar. Apparently keeping him alive had become less of a concern over incapacitating him.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!” Pepper chanted over and over. Banner was a block of stone next to her. 

Steve glanced at Stark, he was being uncharacteristically quiet. The man’s face was slack and blank, his eyes were wide. 

Pepper gasped again and Steve looked at the screen again.

The man in black lifted the steel bar high above his head.

The view suddenly canted and the camera swung in a circle before settling back on the scene in a strange side-ways view. The man above Peter sprouted an arrow in his shoulder, spun and fell.

The other four men turned towards the camera. Two stupidly stood and looked to see where they arrows were coming from and were felled one right after another. The last one turned to run and an arrow grew from beneath his shoulder blades.

Heavy breathing was all that could be heard. Slowly Parker levered himself up and looked at the camera.

“Shit, shit… why that guy?” He wheezed. “Why now?”

“I only saved your life, you little shit,” Barton snorted. 

No one was surprised at the boy’s reaction. Barton hadn’t engaged the boy yet, but he’d made sure that Parker noticed his presence at least one night a week. It usually resulted in Peter going home for the night and crawling into bed early. Hawkeye was becoming his personal boogey man.

Peter stumbled upright and shot out a web, and then he was away.

The camera view shifted again, this time to Peter’s empty bedroom. They didn’t have to wait long for Peter to reappear. He landed heavily on his windowsill and practically fell inside. He stood up and staggered in place, clutching his ribs.

He tore off his mask revealing one eye blackened and puffy. He struggled with his spidersuit, huffing and groaning as he tried to take peel it off.

“Oh, Peter, baby, no,” Pepper said into her hands. 

Peter’s back was purple with bruises. His side was black from his armpit to the waistband of his pants. He wobbled in place.

“Broken ribs,” Banner said, “Looks like he might have a pulled a hamstring or his groin from the way he’s standing. Strong potential of internal bleeding of some sort.” As the boy continued to sway in place Banner frowned. “Concussion?”

Peter tried once at his pants, but left them when he nearly fell. He flopped onto the bed and rolled over with a pained groan to look at the ceiling, or rather the camera that was hidden in ceiling. His pupils were wide, his gaze unfocused. He closed his eyes and after a few minutes went limp.

“Con-Concussion!” Banner proclaimed pointing at the screen. He turned to Romanov. “Please…. Please… tell me you didn’t see that as it happened. He could have died! He shouldn’t …he shouldn’t have slept, he should have gone to a hospital!”

Steve was aware of Barton shifting behind him, preparing for fight or flight he wasn’t sure. Romanov was like an ice statue, pale and frozen. It was getting too tense in here.

“How did he hide that from his aunt?” Stark asked suddenly and Banner whipped around to stare at him.

“Tony! We don’t know if he even woke up!”

Stark snorted. “Of course the kid is fine. Do you think Cupid really would have added a soundtrack to the death of Spider-man?”

The deadly tension seeped out of Banner. “N-no… of course not.” He shook his head and his shoulders hunched. “I’m…I’m sorry.” Pepper patted at his shoulder.

“I didn’t see it,” Romanov said calmly. “Not until I checked the tapes this morning.” Her body was still rigid, tense. She was ready to run at a moment’s notice. “He was fine.” She gestured to the screen. It was now brighter in the room and Peter’s aunt was calling upstairs about breakfast.

He groaned and slowly rolled out of bed. The bruises across his back had faded to a yellowish-green, and the black from his armpit to hip was now a purple and red. The black eye was greatly faded but not gone.

He stumbled to the bathroom and the camera switched again, this time to the one hidden in the bathroom mirror. He peered at himself and grimaced, but his pupils were normal again and there was no staggering. He reached under the sink and pulled out a little bottle. He shook the concealer and squinted at its directions before daubing it on. 

“Peter? Are you up?” May called.

“I’m up Aunt May,” Peter called. “I’m up!”

“You’re going to miss the school bus!”

“I’m coming!” Peter called as he threw yesterday’s clothes on. “I’m coming!”

The screen faded to black. Stark waved his hands again and the lights came up.

“He’s all alone out there,” Pepper said slowly in the deafening silence of the room. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“We aren’t going to let that happen,” Stark frowned. “Are we?” He looked at Steve. “I mean, we’re the fucking heroes. We don’t let kids die.”

They all turned to look at Steve.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “It’s time to bring him in.”

“And do what with him?” Banner asked. 

“Let him know he’s not alone,” Steve said standing. “Let him know he’s got somewhere to turn to get help if he needs it.”

“Steve!” Pepper gasped. “He’s just a baby, you’ve got to stop him! You can’t encourage him in this.”

“Pepper, I remember what it was like to be told I couldn’t fight for what I believed in because I was too weak, and not good enough,” Steve said, pacing to the front of the room and staring up at the blank screen. In his mind’s eye he could see Peter staring into the mirror, hurt and driven.

“It just made me more determined. Peter, for whatever reason, has amazing gifts that he’s decided to use for the greater good. I’m not going to be the one to tell him he can’t.” He shook his head. “It won’t stop him, it will just keep him from coming to us when he needs help.”

“No, we bring him in, give him backup. Help keep him safe. Give him the tools and training to be able to protect himself.”

“What about Fury?” Barton asked. “He’s not going to be happy that we recruited a… what? Junior Avenger?”

“Why does baldy have to know?” Stark stood and came up next to Steve, grinning. “He doesn’t get to have the monopoly on superheroes.” He spun and looked at Banner. “I can’t wait to get him into the lab!” He clapped his hands. “Can you imagine that brain with my machines? We are going to build so many toys!”

“I can’t believe you all!” Pepper stood and stamped her foot. “You can’t be serious!”

“Lady Pepper,” Thor said, lifting his head from where he’d been staring at his hands. “Young Peter is a warrior, and a fine one, but he is untrained. At his age I too battled, perhaps it is different here on Midgard, but this I know,” he stood, “I never had to fight alone. I had my father, my brother, Sif and the warriors three. I put myself at risk, but I had others to pull me out when I had gone too far. The Spider-child has no one and nothing but his pride. If we forbid him this, he will take that pride to the grave, and it will be an early one.”

“He should have a chance at a childhood,” Pepper said stubbornly. “He’s only fourteen.”

“I was in college,” Tony said walking over and rubbing her arms. “Bruce was a lab experiment, Barton… you were what?”

“Circus,” Barton supplied. “Me and my brother were performers, working for a living.”

“And we all know what Tasha was doing,” Stark said. “Steve?”

“My mother was sick,” Steve said. “So I got a job. It wasn’t so unusual, back then.” He’d learned it was different here, now. It was one of the changes he approved of.

“So just because you all had fucked up childhoods-” Pepper started.

“Pep, he’s not going to have an adulthood if we don’t do something,” Banner said, finally standing. “We..we have to help him. This is the only thing that’s likely to work. We can get him to tone it down, pull back a little.”

“It’s hard,” Romanov said quietly, “being on your own. It’s not something I would wish on anyone.”

“Oh, fine!” Pepper said throwing up her hands. “So how are you going to do this?”

“We stick to the plan,” Steve said. “We approach him as Parker, not Spider-man.” He looked at Barton. “But I want him off the streets for now. He sticks his head out of his house as Spider-man I want you there. Let him see you, let him think you’re getting close to catching him. It should give us some time.”

“Time for what?” Banner asked. “Are… are we just going to invite him over?”

“Yes,” Steve said and smiled, “More or less.”


	7. My Super Family | Science Hero

“I can’t believe she’s fu-“

“Language,” Steve interrupted.

“Messing this up. It was a great plan!” Stark waved his hands about.

“We’ll get it sorted,” Steve said with a sigh. He’d said this several times already.

They wanted Peter Parker in the Tower without suspicion that they were aware of his identity. To that end they’d riffed off an idea tossed around in the beginning, one of Stark Industries student awards. Not a scholarship, because as a freshman Peter wouldn’t qualify yet. But a contest, a science contest, those he entered all the time… especially if there was a cash prize.

So Pepper and Stark threw together a new one, “Science Heroes” they called it. In the press they claimed that Tony Stark wanted to inspire the next round of heroes, heroes that like him used brains, not brawn. The purpose of the contest was to get kids interested in science, in making a difference. According to the press junket, a huge multimedia affair that Stark took to like breathing, he wanted to give back and help kids realize that science could save he world.

Steve wondered if Stark actually believed it, because he made it sound like he did. It wasn’t the kind of sentiment he was used to from the man.

It had, even from his uneducated and inexperienced standpoint, a honey of a prize.  The winner got a state of the art Stark tablet, just introduced to the market. It didn’t have a portion of the bells and whistles the tablets that were tossed around the Tower had, but it still blew anything Apple or Microsoft had out of the water. At least that’s how Banner explained it to Steve, and he was assured that was a very good thing.

The winner also received a cash prize of three thousand dollars, which seemed astronomical to Steve. It was more than he made in a year back before he was in the Army. He could have bought a fleet of cars for that back in his day. He knew that it didn’t go as far these days, but to a kid like Peter it would be nearly as amazing. 

The last prize was proving to be the sticking point, a year-long paid internship at Stark Enterprises. Pepper had explained that everyone wanted to work for Stark, especially post Iron Man. She explained it had less to do with the CEO being a superhero and more to do with the very, very generous benefits packages Stark Enterprises provided their employees. Coming from a time when most people worked for a company their whole life, health costs weren’t so astronomical, and people generally didn’t have to worry about living past 60, Steve didn’t really understand the strong draw. But Banner had been extremely enthusiastic and complimentary about it, so he supposed that he would just come to understand later.

The internship was perfect. Because it meant that beyond the little meet-and-greet with press and cameras where Peter would be presented the check, the boy would be around the tower for a whole year. Three hundred and sixty five days to get a handle on Peter and slowly break it to him that not only did the Avengers know about Spider-man, but they wanted to help. A year to get the boy used to the idea and train and get him on the right track.

As predicted, Parker had been one of the first entrants. He’d even won, fair and square. Stark had insisted on that. Just being in the contest was enough to give them an excuse to meet with the boy. They could have arranged a meet and greet with all entrants or something similar. It wouldn’t be ideal, but they could make it work. If there was going to be a contest with the Stark name attached, Stark wanted it to be clean and fair. Steve had been surprised, but he agreed with him. 

Not that Steve would ever admit that to him, he’d be insufferable.

The contestant entries had been put through a panel of judges blind. Banner and Stark were on the panel, but so were several other respected scientists, enough that their votes couldn’t swing the outcome even if they’d known which was his. Peter’s entry, a sonic ‘bomb’ that could blind and confuse as a distraction device, had won hands down among the other submitted projects.

It was completely irrational, but Steve felt proud for the boy. He’d actually been looking forward to actually meeting Peter since they set the plan in motion.

But there was a snag. May didn’t want Peter to take the internship. Romanov had found out why, a heated dinner conversation with May and Peter the night after he’d found out he’d won. She didn’t want him working, she wanted him to concentrate on school. Peter had pled with her, begged. He’d seen some of their bank statements, the money from the job could help. PLUS! PLUS! (he’d shouted it, as if using math would make her understand) He’d be working for TONY STARK. He wouldn’t even have to  _go_ to college, he could get a job anywhere he wanted after working for TONY STARK.

That had been the wrong tack to take, entirely. May apparently didn’t like TONY STARK, and the thought of Peter even considering skipping out on college was something she couldn’t bear. She’d dug her heels in, and without her consent to sign the working papers Peter needed as a 14-year-old in New York, he couldn’t take the job. It made sense now that Peter had only gone to the Bugle to sell his photos, they were the only ones willing to pay him cash. It was how he managed to keep his income a secret so far. Without the internship, they’d have to pull the kid aside tonight. They’d have to break it to him quick that they knew and hope he didn’t go on the defensive. Or worse, it didn’t cause the kid to rabbit out of reach.

“I don’t like the old bat,” Stark muttered, fiddling with cuffs.

“Stark, that’s not going to help convince her,” Steve said tiredly, and couldn’t help but fuss with the edge of his cowl. Stark’s edginess was starting to wear off on him.

He felt silly in his Captain America uniform. The helmet/mask thing and tights just seemed unnecessary if there wasn’t something to fight. But they were having this meeting just before the official presenting of the check, and all the Avengers would be there. They were the face of the Science Hero Contest, along with Iron Man. They’d all be suited up, except for Bruce, who Pepper and Stark were forcing to wear a lab coat. Stark was presenting, which he couldn’t do well from in the Iron Man suit, so he got to just dress up in one of fancy Italian suits instead.

“Sir, Young Master Parker and Mrs May Parker have arrived,” JARVIS said. “Shall I have Miss Potts escort them in?”

“Yes, Jesus, Yes,” Stark said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Be nice,” Steve hissed. 

“When am I not nice?” Stark shot back.

Steve started to answer, but quickly shut his mouth and gave a big smile for the two people following Pepper into the room.

Peter’s eyes were like saucers flicking back and forth between TONY STARK and OMG, Captain America! He looked up at his aunt as if to confirm what he was seeing was real before turning to stare at them again.

The boy was wearing brand-spanking-new everything, from his shoes, to his tie and probably even his underwear. Steve knew that wasn’t common in the Parker household. He wondered vaguely if the kid was wearing his Spider-man suit underneath. 

“Mr. Stark,” Pepper says, “Captain, I’d like to introduce you to the first winner of the Science Hero contest. This is Peter Parker and his aunt, Mrs. May Parker.”

“Mrs. Parker,” Stark said and shook her hand. “Peter,” he said and Parker’s mouth worked as he shook Stark’s hand, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t.

“Parker,” Steve shook Peter’s hand and suppressed a chuckle at his star-struck open mouth. It was hard to believe this kid was the one managed to take down the Avengers.

“Mrs. Parker,” Steve let the kid go and held out a hand, “It’s an honor.”

“The honor is mine,” May said and she had a shimmer in her eyes as she placed her hand in his. “You know, this is the second time we’ve met.”

“It is?” Steve blurted. He hasn’t met all that many people since he’s been back, and he was sure that he would have remembered meeting May.

He exchanged a glance with Stark who glared at him like he was keeping secrets.

“Oh, I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” May said with a smile. “It was over 70 years ago. It was at one of your war bond rallies. I traveled six hours to get to Buffalo just to see you. I got my photo with you, after.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a little portfolio. “I was wondering, if you’d sign it… again.”

She handed the little book to him and he opened it up to see a photo of himself in his dancing monkey outfit and old shield next to a girl who couldn’t be older than Peter was now. “Thanks for supporting our troops! Captain America” was scrawled across the bottom.

Steve looked up from the fresh-faced teen in the photo to the old woman standing before him. He’d never felt so old or out of place, or so very touched. She’d cherished this, and the memory of meeting him, for over half a century. He took down his cowl so she could see his face. “It would be a genuine honor, Mrs. Parker.” 

He looked around and Pepper was handing him a marker. As usual she was prepared. He thought for a long moment about what to write and then carefully wrote, “Thanks for remembering, Steve Rogers.” 

“Thank you!” May says and her eyes are suspiciously shining, but she blinks it away as she tucks the photo away again. She glances at Peter, who is looking at her like he’s never seen her before. “I’m sorry, this day is for Peter, not for me. Thank you for indulging an old woman.” 

“Not a problem,” Steve says and looks over to Stark for a rescue.

Stark picks up quickly. “Please sit!” He gestures to the sitting area around a small coffee table a little further in the room.

Peter and May settle onto the couch on one end and Steve and Stark sit on chairs opposite. Pepper brings out a soda for Peter, iced tea for herself and May, coffee for Tony and Steve. Tony makes a face at it, but she just gives him a look as she settles into a chair on his other side. Drinking in front of May wouldn’t help convince her to let Peter work at Stark Industries.

“So we understand you have something to discuss with us,” Stark said. They didn’t officially “know” yet about May’s refusal to let Peter take the internship. “We’re all very excited to have Peter with us for the next year.”

Peter cast a begging look at his aunt, but she ignored him. “Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk about Mr. Stark-“

“Tony,” prompted Stark with a charming smile.

“Mr. Stark,” May continued and Stark’s smile dimmed, “I want you to know how much I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I think this program is a very good thing, and will encourage a lot of young people. The prize you’ve offered is more than generous-“

“Thank you,” Stark said, “however, I think I hear a “but” in there.”

May nodded. “I’m sorry if this is disruptive, but I don’t want Peter distracted from his studies. His uncle and I both agreed that until he graduated from high school we wanted him to focus on his schooling, and not have to work. So he’ll be unable to accept the internship. We understand if this means that he’ll have to forfeit the contest.”

Steve watched Peter. He looked like he wanted the couch to swallow him up whole. Not only would he be missing out on what had to be his dream part-time job, but no Stark tablet? No money either? All this on top of being embarrassed in front of two of his heroes.  It had to be killing him not to yell and throw a tantrum. His estimation of the boy rose. The boy respected his elders. He might not agree with his aunt, but he’d do what she said.

“Mrs. Parker, I can understand your concerns,” Stark said. “But think you’re underestimating Peter. You know we were given a copy of his school records. Peter’s schoolwork so far is exemplary. I think he’d easily be able to manage both.”

May’s face settled into an almost frown. “I’m quite aware of Peter’s abilities,” she said sternly. “And I have no doubt that Peter could excel at both his schoolwork and any work you set him on. He’d be a credit to Stark Industries.”

“I’m not sure what the issue is,” Stark said, flopping back in his chair. “I want that brain in my labs. This internship isn’t just a fluff position, you know. He’d have full access to my R&D labs, thirteen floors of them, and he’d get an experience he’d never have in one of his classes.”

“Thirteen floors?” Peter said in a worshipful tone.

Stark held up three fingers, “Yeah, added three more after the Incident.”

The incident was what most people called the invasion. It made it seem less scary, Steve supposed. More manageable.

Steve glanced at Stark. There were ten floors of Stark R&D labs in the building, the other three labs were Banner’s lab, and two more exclusively for Stark and Banner to work in together. They were private, so he was surprised he mentioned them.

“I’m sure it would be an experience,” May said, and her tone had a severe twist that implied it wouldn’t be a good one. “I’ve read what the Bugle has said about some of the experiments and projects your company has been involved in. I’m not sure if I want Peter exposed to those kind of…situations.”

“Aunt May,” Peter said wringing his hands around his cola and looking aggrieved. “The Bugle? _Really?”_

“You know,” Pepper said brightly, “there hasn’t been an article in the Bugle about our company or Mr. Stark that they haven’t had printed a retraction for?”

“Oh?” May said, and she didn’t sound like she believed Pepper.

“I  _told_ you, Aunt May,” Peter whispered, and he probably meant it to be heard by May only.

“So would you reconsider?” Steve said leaning forward. “Mrs. Parker, I hope you wouldn’t think that I would be involved in something or someone that would be… inappropriate.”

“Of course not,” May gasped turning to him. “I know  _you_ wouldn’t do anything untoward.”

“Of course not,” Stark parroted, waving a hand dramatically. _“Me,_ sure, but not _him.”_ He picked up his coffee and took a sip. “I’m only, you know, the guy who saved Manhattan.” He took another swig of his coffee. “By riding a nuke into space,” he added with a sniff. “No, _I’m_ the devil. Sure.”

“Stark,” Steve said and flashed him a warning look. He turned back to May, “I think you’re being a bit unfair to Mr. Stark. I know he can be a bit abrasive-“

“Your face is abrasive,” Stark muttered into his coffee cup. Peter snickered and May shot him a look. Peter went instantly contrite.

“But,” Steve continued, ignoring them both, “I can tell you after working with Stark for a while now that the reports on him are greatly exaggerated. He’s one of the most hard-working and brilliant men I’ve ever met.” He was vaguely aware of Stark shooting him an incredulous, disbelieving look. Was he trying to sabotage them? “I can’t see how it would be detrimental to have Peter work with a man like Stark.”

“I’m a genius,” Stark added helpfully. “I have papers to prove it. Pedigreed, that’s me.”

May looked uncertain for a moment, then glanced at Peter. He looked at her hopefully. A resolve settled around her shoulders and she lifted her chin. “I may be misjudging Mr. Stark, and if I am, I’m sorry.”

“May be, she says,” Stark huffed. “ _If_ , she says.”

“Not helping, she says,” Pepper leaned over and whispered in his ear. Steve’s super hearing picked it up, and a glance at Peter made it seem like he might have heard it too. He filed that away along with the boy’s super agility, apparent precognitive abilities and accelerated healing.

“But, be that as it may,” Peter’s Aunt continued, oblivious, “Ben and I decided long ago that we wanted Peter to have as normal and happy childhood as we could provide for him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to have that if he has to worry about both his studies and a job. I don’t want him to deal with that kind of stress.”

“But Peter isn’t normal,” Pepper piped up, “And maybe what will make him happiest isn’t a normal childhood.” Before May could protest she quickly continued, setting down her ice tea and shooting May a smile. It was one of Pepper’s smiles that made you think  _she_ _understands_. Which was true, because she usually did. “I think I know what you want for Peter. You want him to do well in school, maybe be in a club or on a sports team. Make friends… maybe meet a girl.”

Everyone glanced at Peter, who suddenly found his soda very interesting. His ears were bright pink.

“But I think what Peter wants is to be challenged,” Pepper said with a smile. “And he’s not really getting that at school, is he? And I can’t imagine he has all that many friends… We’ve seen Peter’s work, and I’ve been around my share of brilliant men,” she gave Stark an indulgent look. “Sometimes it’s a little hard for them to get down to us normal people level. Have you asked Peter what he wants to be happy?”

May sighed, looked down at her hands and then over to her nephew. She was clearly conflicted. She just needed a little push. Steve tried to think of what could tip her over.

“And maybe I can sweeten the pot,” Stark said. “What if we add in another prize? If Peter here can get through my internship without a dip in his grades, I’ll give him a full scholarship to the college of his choice. Full ride.”

May gasps, “That’s entirely too generous!” She looks at Steve and Pepper as if for confirmation that she’s not being tricked. “Why would you do such a thing?” Even now she’s sure that Stark is playing some game.

“Ma’am,” Steve said sternly, getting a bit angry on Stark’s behalf. The man may be annoying, but she was treating him like a villain. “Because he he believes Peter is worth it. When Mr. Stark wants something, he generally gets it. I’ve seen him collect people like baseball cards. He’s got some of the finest brains in the country in this building just to let ‘em play in his labs. And it seems he’s decided he wants Peter too.”

“But… why?” May asked faintly. “I know Peter is a good boy-“

“Good? He’s fu-“

“Language!” Steve snapped before he could stop himself.

Stark flicked a glare at him before staring back at May, “He’s not good, he’s  _freaking_  brilliant. His project is better than half of what my fully trained employees could make. His brain? Awesome. I want it. I need it.”

Peter looked like… well like a hero had just complimented him.

“What Tony is saying,” Pepper smiled, “Is that he’d like to see what Peter is really capable of with full resources at his disposal. Stark Industries is known for gathering and nurturing the best talent, and Peter has great potential.”

May looked at Steve. He gave her his best “Captain America” nod.

“Peter?” May asked looking at the boy.

Peter knew when to put on the puppy eyes. “Oh, please, please, _please_ Aunt May?” He pointed at Stark, “He has his own electron microscope!”

“Somebody’s been reading the brochure,” Stark said and waggled his eyebrows. “I have a particle accelerator too.”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Peter bounced in his seat. “Aunt May! A particle accelerator!”

“I have all the toys,” Stark boasted. “Plus, don’t you want the boy to be around role models like Span…the Cap here?”

May looked around the room. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“If your grades so much as dip-” May started but Peter was already launching himself at her, hugging her tight. He babbled thank yous and oh-my-goshes and promises to not only get straight A’s but to clean his room and remember to take out the trash too.

“Now, now,” she said firmly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Pepper clapped, and she was getting a little teary. “JARVIS, can you add Peter to the company roll?”

“Of course,” JARVIS said. 

“Oh!” May gasped and looked around. “Who’s that?”

“That’s JARVIS, he takes care of the building,” Pepper explained.

“He’s an AI,” Steve said, like it was an every day thing. When May looked confused he added proudly, happy that he was the one explaining for once, “That means Artificial Intelligence.”

“Artificial Intelligence? He’s a program?” Peter looks wonderingly at the ceiling. “Can I see his source code?”

“Not on the first date, Sir,” JARVIS replies primly. 

“So cool,” Peter says and lifts his soda to his lips. “It’s like… man. Whoa.” His eyes are saucers and he looks at his Aunt. “Thank you so much, Aunt May!” He takes a deep breath and seemed to take stock of himself. “Thank you Captain, Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts.”

“You’re welcome, son,” Steve says with a grin, and Stark and Pepper murmur the same.

Peter smiled, large enough to crack his face. “Can I see the particle accelerator?”

After getting May’s consent things flowed smoothly. They got Peter down to the presentation room where he was gifted his tablet and had his picture taken with a giant cardboard check from Stark Industries.  

He had his picture taken with every one of the Avengers, for the press kit, and was suitably awed by all of them.

He was dwarfed by Thor, who knocked him over when slapping him on the back in greeting. He blushed bright enough to match Romanov’s hair when placed next to her. He chattered non-stop at Stark, asking about what other devices and gee-gaws the tower had hidden. He was silent next to Steve, though his chest puffed up and he made sure to stand very, very straight.

They had a little problem when he met Hawkeye. Peter visibly scared of Barton, who pretended not to notice. But the photographer saw it too, and spent a good twenty minutes torturing the boy by trying to get a more natural photo. Steve slightly regretted giving Barton free range on how to keep Peter from getting into too much trouble.

The most entertaining was his reaction to Banner.

“Oh wow,” Peter said as he shook his hand. “You’re the-“

“The…the Hulk…yeah,” Banner said, hardly pausing on the name he hated to say.

“No, I mean, yeah, I knew that,” Peter said, still shaking his hand. “I was going to say the author of that paper on secondary production of neutral pi-mesons and the diffuse galactic gamma radiation.”

Banner rocked back on his heels, surprised enough to let Parker continue to waggle his hand in a never-ending handshake. “You read that? I…I wrote that…years ago. It was a student paper-“

“Yeah, I know,” Peter said. “I was doing some extra credit for Physics and I was trying to figure out which was better, isobaric or scaling model methods of predicting spectra-“

“Oh isobaric, definitely,” Banner interrupted. “You actually understood that paper?” Peter was still shaking his hand. Banner looked at their joined hands and his amused smile was back.

“Um, well, not all of it,” Peter said. “But what I did was fascinating! I’ve recently gotten very interested in the effects of different types of radiation, and detecting their effects, especially on the mitochondria level or smaller, and sources and-” He still shook Banner’s hand.

“That’s… that’s something we can discuss more in depth, perhaps as one of your projects,” Banner nodded. He gave a real and genuine smile. “Can I have my hand back?”

“Waugh!” Peter yelped and let go. “I’m SO sorry!”

“Not…Not a problem,” Banner smiled and put a hand around his shoulders. “Smile for the camera.”

“My god,” Stark said to Steve, “This kid is awesome. He speaks English.”

“I think your definition of English is different than mine,” Steve shook his head. He hid an amused smile behind his hand as the boy started chattering at Banner the minute the flashes stopped.

“So, mission accomplished,” Stark said as Pepper led Parker and his aunt to the back offices to set up a schedule for when Peter would be expected at the Tower. “When do we break it to him that we know about Spidey? I can’t wait to see the look on his face. Did you see him with Clint? He looked like he was going to piss himself!”

Barton sauntered over at his name. “He’s a brave kid. He knew I’d be here and didn’t stop him from coming.”

“Brave or stupid?” Romanov said, rolling her shoulders and flopping into a chair next to a relaxing Banner. Her seating was a little too deliberate to be natural and he straightened and scooted a little away. Romanov pretended not to notice.

“Brave,” Banner insisted. “Peter is anything but stupid. He’s very confident in his secret identity.”

“Well, as far as he knows, we have no reason to suspect Peter Parker is Spider-man,” Steve nodded. 

“Happy’s driving them home,” Pepper said coming in. “He’ll be back on Tuesday, after school.”

“That is quite some time for the lad to get into trouble,” Thor said. “Should we not reveal our knowledge before then?”

“I don’t think we should reveal ourselves at all,” Barton said.

“As fun as it is to watch you terrorize the kid,” Stark said, taking off his tie and pouring himself a drink from the bar in the corner, “I think that joke is wearing out.”

“The boy’s getting antsy,” Steve nodded. “Just seeing you a block away from home isn’t going to keep him penned in for long. I think we need to bring him as soon as possible.”

“Before he gets hurt!” Pepper agreed.

“How many of you have experience recruiting?” Barton asked.

“I recruit people all the time,” Stark said. “Hellooo, CEO of a huge multinational corporation. You think I’ve never headhunted before?”

“You don’t,” Pepper said wryly, “I do.”

“Same difference,” Stark said, half into his brandy.

“I chose my team back in the war,” Steve said.

“Out of a group of soldiers,” Romanov said steadily staring at Barton. “Willing volunteers.”

“Exactly,” Barton said.

“What are you getting at, Archer?” Thor said. “Should we not be straightforward with the Spider-child?”

“Clint has the most experience with bringing in new recruits,” Romanov said. She gave a grim smile, her pose too carefully boneless. “He brought me in.”

“He is a child,” Barton said, perching on the back of Romanov’s chair and putting a hand on her shoulder. She relaxed a hair. “You can’t expect him to act like a soldier, or even an adult. We suddenly all come at him, he’s going to be freaked out and scared. He won’t trust us. He’s a cagey kid, we still don’t know why he’s doing this. We trample on something important, in a hurry to ‘protect’ him from himself, he’s going to bolt.”

Steve considered this and what he knew of Barton’s file. Barton was one of SHIELD’s best agents, and was much more than just an assassin. Romanov wasn’t the only one he’d turned. He looked at the woman.

“Do you agree with him?” She was able to see into people like no one he’d ever met.

She considered for a moment. “Yes,” she said slowly. “There is something, something he’s holding close to the heart about this. We could easily drive him away if we handle it wrong.”

Steve nodded. “What do you suggest?” He asked Barton.

“He seems to have a rapport with Stark,” Barton nodded to the man, “and Bruce. They got that egghead thing in common. If we play this right… he should confess to one of you.”

“He won’t tell his aunt, his only living relative, but he’ll open up to  _Stark?_ ” Steve’s voice nearly cracked with disbelief.

“Or maybe to a man who can turn into the not-so-jolly green giant,” Stark said. “Why is it so hard to believe he’d feel comfortable coming to me?”

“Because you’re…you,” Steve said, and felt that was a pretty good explanation. 

Stark rolled his eyes.

“Trust me on this, Cap,” Barton held up a hand. “The kid is scared as hell of me and Tasha, he doesn’t know what to make of Thor,” he jerked his thumb at the looming Norse god. “And you,” he gestured to Steve, “you’re like…the second coming to him. Bruce and Stark, he understands. If he’s going to talk to someone, it’s going to be them.” He blinked. “Or maybe Pepper.”

“Me?” Pepper asked from where she was randomly tidying up the room.

“Probably not,” Barton shrugged. “You’re a girl… and he’s pretty confused by those right now. But you’re also really pragmatic, and take everything he-” he jerked a thumb at Stark, “dishes out without too much problem. He might feel you can handle it, and aren’t threatening to him.”

“Huh,” Pepper said and looked pleased. Stark grinned at her and lifted his glass in salute.

“Is there anything we can do to, um, encourage him to come out to us?” Banner asked. “I really don’t want him to get into another situation like he did with the Phoenix group… and… and that’s not even resolved yet.”

While Peter was effectively hemmed in by the attention Barton was giving him at night he hadn’t stopped looking for or researching the Phoenix group. It was just a matter of time before he tried something.

“He’s a superhero, not gay,” Stark snorted. Then gave a wry twist to his lips. “Well I don’t think he is.” He shrugged. “It’s not like we can put up “Pride” stickers or a flag to let him know we’re supporters.” 

He glanced at Steve and there must have been something on his face because he felt the need to try to explain. “Gay means homosexual-“

“I know what it means,” Steve said quickly. “I’ve heard the term.” He wasn’t so sure what he was saying with the stickers or flags, but it wasn’t a topic he wanted to hear from Stark.

Barton snickered. “Yeah, well, the concept’s the same actually. Talk to the boy about why you became Iron Man,” he said to Stark. He looked at Banner. “Or why you decided to join up with us. Treat him like an adult who knows what he’s doing.”

“But he doesn’t!” Steve protested. “He’s nearly gotten himself killed already.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Barton said firmly. “I think we can let up on the daytime surveillance. Tasha and I can take turns shadowing him at night. Let him get comfortable again. We’ll keep him out of any serious fights, but I think it’s okay to let him take down muggers and crap again.”

“Let him slip back into his comfort zone,” Romanov nodded. 

“It feels deceitful,” Thor said. “I do not like this.”

“Do you want the boy to come to us when there is trouble, or hide it from us?” Barton asked. 

Thor frowned. “Your mind is twisty and complex, as is this situation. I shall defer to you.”

“Same,” Steve sighed. He looked down, thinking hard. “Okay, Barton, Romanov, keep the kid on a tight leash. He faces anything bigger than a purse snatcher, you back him up. Maybe that’ll let him know the Avengers aren’t his enemy.” He looked at Stark and Banner, “You two, I guess just be open to the boy…follow Barton on this one.”

“And you and I, Captain?” Thor said. “I grow weary of all this idleness.”

“I know,” Steve gave him a friendly slap on the back. “But we continue on backup.” He looked back Barton and Romanov. “Any sign of Phoenix group, call us in.” He looked back up at Thor. “You want to spar tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “I long for battle, and you are a worthy partner. And perhaps the Lady Pepper would be so kind as to continue her lessons on the Skype to me?” He looked over to Pepper. “I quite enjoyed my conversation with my Lady Jane the other day. The phone is well and good, but I enjoy seeing her visage when we speak.”

Thor had reconnected with Jane Foster only a few weeks ago, when Pepper had explained the concept of phone books, google and mapquest to him. He’d flown out (hammer driven) to see her, but the initial meeting hadn’t gone entirely well. The fact he’d taken a couple of months to track her down seemed to be the main sticking point.

Steve was glad they seemed to be doing better. Thor was as much a fish out of water as he was, but he actually had more friends than Steve. Steve didn’t know anyone outside the Tower besides Fury and a handful of SHIELD agents. Well, unless you counted Peter and his aunt. Thor had already reconnected with Jane’s lab assistant, Darcy, and talked with Selvig too.

Pepper had started giving both Thor and Steve lessons on cell phones, email, and fancier things like ‘the Skype,’ but Steve had dropped out after the basics. He didn’t have anyone to communicate with and it just felt awkward to make fake phone calls to Pepper.

“No problem, Thor. I’m done for the night, escort me to my floor?” Pepper grinned, and hooked his arm through hers. “See you upstairs,” She called to Stark. He just rattled his glass at her. She shook her head and looked up at Thor. “Did the flowers work?”

“Most assuredly!” Thor grinned. “She was quite impressed with their variety, and more impressed when I told her I gathered them myself. It was a suitable quest you put me on!” He looked at her hopefully, “Perhaps you have another?  I should like to see that smile again.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure I can come up with something!” Pepper said as the left the room.

Banner gave a half-grin, “That’s…”

“Sickening?” Stark asked.

“Sweet,” Banner admonished gently. “I’m glad to see someone happy.” He yawned. “I’m going to head to bed.” He gave everyone a genial nod, stood and left the room.

Romanov lost a little of her tension.

Steve frowned, and decided to see if there was some way to get Banner involved in some of their training situations. There was still stress between him and Romanov, and it would have to be resolved before it became a real problem. Romanov would be the harder person to convince to participate than Banner he suspected.

“I’m going to head out to Parker’s,” Barton said. He’d gone mostly nocturnal since starting on Parker duty. “I bet the kid’s so hyped up he can’t sleep. Ten to one he’s going to do a little web slinging tonight.”

“No bet,” Stark said. Steve noticed he was pouring himself a refill on his drink already.

“I’ll come with you,” Romanov said, uncurling herself from her seat and heading toward the exit. “I’m off day duty now, no reason to go to bed early. I’m already suited up, and I could use the exercise.”

“You kids have fun!” Stark waved.

Barton flipped Stark off and followed Romanov out.

“Nightcap…Cap?” Stark asked, lifting his brandy bottle.

“No thanks,” Steve shook his head. “You know alcohol has no effect on me. It would be a waste.”

“Not necessarily. Shared bonding experience?” Stark suggested, using Steve’s excuse for the group training sessions he’d scheduled with him, Barton and Romanov. Thor didn’t need to train the way they did.

“You haven’t made one training session,” Steve griped. He knew the man worked out with Happy. Romanov had told him about that, probably to shut him up about Stark skipping. But he also knew that Happy wouldn’t push Stark the way he would, to be better, stronger, more of what he knew the man could be. What he was when he had to be.

“Walked into that one,” Stark grimaced and flopped into a chair beside the windows at the other end of the room. This room was one of the outer edge block of the tower, those all had floor to ceiling windows that looked over the city. 

Steve glanced at the door, and then the other man.  _Shared bonding experience…_ Romanov and Banner weren’t the only ones who had personal issues that needed working out. He grabbed a bottle of water from the bar and walked over to the windows, a few seats down from Stark. He cracked it open and stared out at the city. It was just so big now…

“I prefer it to Malibu,” Stark said and Steve was surprised to find he’d spoken aloud.

“I’ve never been to California,” Steve said. “I hear it’s warm.”

Stark chuckled. “Depends what part, it’s a long state. Some parts even get snow.”

“I heard that too, and that there are places you can go skiing and swimming the same day.”

“If you can get up and down the mountains fast enough,” Stark nodded. “Which I can,” he said with a grin.

“Never been skiing,” Steve shrugged. “And I’m not much for swimming, though I can do it.” He leaned a knee on a chair, continuing to stare out the window. “Guess I was meant to be here.”

“You grew up here,” Stark said with a shrug. “Brooklyn, right?”

“Yeah… Never had a chance to travel before the War, I hardly even saw other parts of the city. SHIELD offered to get me an apartment there,” Steve said idly, turning his head to face the direction of Brooklyn. “Actually, I think they did it. Sometimes I wonder if I should take it.”

“What?” Stark bounced out of his seat. His drink sloshed at his hand, and he quickly picked up a napkin to pat at himself. “Why? You’re leaving? When? You can’t!”

“I’ve just been thinking about it,” Steve said looking over at Stark with a frown. “I don’t have any plans to leave.” He turned to face Stark and put hands on his hips. “What do you mean I can’t? Did SHIELD tell you to keep me here?”  He knew that Stark was no fan of SHIELD or Fury, but he could be weird about some things.

“What? No!” Stark thumped his glass down on the arm of a chair. “Do you really think I’d listen to Eyepatch about something like that?”

Steve stared hard at Stark. The man tucked his chin close to his body, widened his eyes, shrugging his shoulders and brought his hands up with fingers spread. He looked ridiculous. Like some very odd flapping owl.

He looked back over the city. “No,” he said softly. “Not really.” He knew Stark was a better man than that. If he’d had such orders he would have told them, like he did when Fury ‘requested’ that Banner not be allowed outside the Tower without escort. Stark had responded by taking Banner out for lunch and leaving him in Central Park to find his way back to the tower alone. Banner had taken it better than Fury had. He came home with souvenirs for everyone.

“You’ve been thinking about leaving?” Stark’s voice was calmer, less frenetic than usual. “Seriously?”

“Or getting a job,” Steve said, glancing at the man. He frowned deeper. Stark looked like someone had just stolen his puppy. “What?”

Stark made a face, instantly wiping any sentiment from his face. “A _job?_ ”

“To get out there,” Steve waved a hand at the city, “I feel like I still haven’t really figured out this place, this time.” Stark was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. Steve wished he had pockets to jam his hands into. “It’d be nice to have a little walking around money too.”

“You have money,” Stark said, frowning. “Didn’t Pepper give you the cards, and the pin-“

“My own money,” Steve interrupted. “Though, thank you. You’ve been quite generous. It just feels strange, not paying my own way. I’ve always supported myself.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Stark said and clutched the side of his head. “No one told you.”

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t swear _and_ blaspheme in the same sentence,” Steve grumped. He frowned deeper. “Tell me what?”

“When you disappeared, where do you think your stuff went?” Stark asked. 

“Apparently to the highest bidder,” Steve snorted. “Barton showed me some of the ebay auctions.” He paused. “Do you think if I put up any of my current things they’d go for as much? Or is it just the vintage stuff that goes for bank?”

“You are not selling your underwear on ebay,” Stark said, flopping back in a chair and holding his head. “Am I drunk? I don’t think I’m drunk… I only had two drinks-“

“Three,” Steve said and gestured to his drink. “That’s the third.”

“Yeah, that’s not enough to even get close,” he shook his head. “No… not everything found it’s way up onto the collector’s market. Peggy put my dad in charge of your estate, I think… I think the army considered her as close to family as you had.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “She was,” he said softly. 

“You know my father was always looking for you, right?” Stark said, leaning forward on his elbows and looking up at him. 

“I heard something about it,” Steve glanced down out of the corner of his eye. “He must’ve given up on it at some point.”

Stark shrugged. “Not really.” He waved a hand. “That’s not important. Well, at first, I guess he thought he’d find you alive. He took your army pay and set it up in a Stark managed trust.” He gestured around. “You might have noticed, he was kinda good with money. Me too…” He shrugged. “Seventy years, good management, investments, compound interest…”

“Speak English,” Steve interrupted. Then remembering what Stark considered English, quickly added. “Plain, simple English.”

“You have money,” Stark said simply. “Not my level of money… But enough that you never have to worry about working…if you don’t want to. The trust had a clause that said if you were ever found, or a decedent was, the funds were to go back to you.” He gestured to where Steve would normally have a pocket. “The money attached to those cards, it’s yours.”

There was a long silent moment that stretched and enveloped the two men.

“Oh,” Steve said and looked at the city again, and pondered if that changed anything. He still hadn’t really earned that money… the seed of it yes, but… a slight weight lifted off him knowing that he wasn’t living completely off charity. “I guess I should be paying you rent then.”

Stark looked horrified, “You couldn’t afford it.”

Steve frowned, but before he can even think of arguing, Stark continues, “And Bruce certainly can’t. I think Thor’s rich, I mean, his dad is king god or something, but I don’t know what the Asgard-Earth exchange rate is, so maybe he can. But Clint and Nat can’t… If you do, they’ll think they should too.”

“They don’t have to know,” Steve said.

“Yeah, you think secrets are going to last around Clint and Nat? Super-spy-assassins!”

Steve just sighs, and thankfully Stark takes the matter as dropped. They watch the city lights for a while, and Steve considers going to bed. He’s not really tired. The serum means he doesn’t have to sleep much which is just terrible sometimes.

“You could get your own apartment, I guess, if you wanted to,” Stark said, almost mumbling. “You could afford a regular one, in Brooklyn or wherever.”

Steve thinks about it, again, for the millionth time. Out there he could just be Steve Rogers, not Captain America. He could blend. He could not have a house that literally talked to him, and full of strange weirdness. He didn’t need a job, but he could maybe find work somewhere, just for fun. Maybe go back to school? Learn what he’d missed.

He could get out, meet people, make some connections. He could come back here when he was needed, which wasn’t often it seemed to him. It had been about six months since the Chitauri invasion, and nothing had been required of him but two photo ops. 

“Maybe,” he said and was completely unprepared when Stark burst out of his seat.

The man was halfway through the door when Steve finally managed to blurt out, “Stark?”

“I’ll have JARVIS look up some properties for you,” Stark said, and then he was gone.

 


	8. Maybe

The boy was in the building. 

Most days just blended together, and honestly Steve had problems remembering what day of the week it was. He’d had JARVIS add it to his morning wake-up call, but it wasn’t rare for him to have forgotten again by the time he hit breakfast. If you didn’t have to be in a particular place everyday its easy to get lost in the stream of time.

But today was Tuesday, and Peter was here for his first working shift as intern. It was only three hours, the maximum he was allowed as a minor. His aunt had asked that the boy have Mondays and Fridays off, so it was only 9 hours for the whole week. Stark closed down the building on the weekend for the majority of the workers, another reason people liked working for him.

Steve had absolutely no reason to seek the boy out. In fact, he was more or less under orders from Romanov and Barton not to. He’d make the boy nervous, they said. They had to let the boy acclimate and feel comfortable in his surroundings. The whole plan was to let the boy get close to Stark and Banner, let him open up to them. Steve was not to interfere with the plan.

Steve jabbed at the bag, frowning and aware he was obsessing. It was the movie nights… they’d made him feel close to the boy, responsible for him. He identified with the boy, and liked him, but it was also his military training urging him along. He was a man who had to have a mission or a purpose to function. Before the serum the mission had been to get into the army, after enlisting it was staying in the army, then it was defeat Hyrda and the Nazis. Then, shortly after waking up, defeat Loki. But now he was floundering.

The team and he didn’t have a mission, a directive, to work towards. So the boy had become his mission. He was aware of this logically, and the fact that the boy was actually just a boy and not a military goal. But he did need help… Hence the mission. But they were in that interminably awful stage of every mission, the waiting. Waiting for the Hydra convoy to pass over their booby traps, waiting for a train to get into position, waiting for the portal to close, waiting…

The punching bag sailed off its moorings, spreading sand in its wake. Steve sighed. Stark had offered him indestructible punching bags, but he’d turned him down. At the time it was because Steve felt the need to learn to temper his strength. Even after all this time it was hard sometimes to remember how much pressure to exert to be ‘normal’ instead of ‘super soldier.’ Now he wished he’d taken Stark up on his offer. It’d be nice to have something that he could just vent against.

“JARVIS, is Thor in the building?” Steve panted.

“Thor is currently visiting Jane Foster.”

“Right,” Steve frowned. That had been part of the plan. Thor had as much guile as a Labrador puppy. Until Banner or Stark brought in Spider-man, officially, they were trying to keep any accidental meetings between Peter and Thor to a minimum.

Still, he needed something to do… and if he couldn’t spar with Thor… “Romanov and Barton?”

“Sleeping,” JARVIS stated simply. “I believe they were out with Mr. Parker until quite late.”

Steve gave a wry smirk. The boy was running them ragged. It was more than a little funny to him that two super spies couldn’t keep up with one teenage boy. Banner had hypothesized that the boy’s abilities were something similar to Steve’s. Parker healed quicker, moved faster and his bones and muscles were obviously stronger then the average man’s. He thankfully seemed to need less sleep, or he would have fallen to pieces long before they’d gotten involved.

It meant that the boy could spend most of his nights “web-slinging” as Barton called it, and still function somewhat through the day. Barton couldn’t do the same, not in the long term, and had taken to sleeping most days through. Romanov had started splitting shifts with him, coming in around three am and following the boy to school. Barton usually couldn’t leave it alone though, and followed them both around until she came back to the Tower.

Steve sighed.

“Pepper?”

“With Master Stark and Mr. Parker, I believe they are on a tour of the Tower.”

“Oh,” Steve scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Banner?”

“In his laboratory, I believe he is awaiting the tour.”

And there was everyone he knew… Except for Fury and he didn’t care how boring the day was, he wasn’t going to seek that man out.

“I’m going out for a run,” he stated, though he knew no one would be looking for him before he returned.

“Please take your phone with you,” JARVIS requested. “As a precaution…”

“I’ll try not to get lost this time,” Steve promised the AI. And honestly, he was a lot better about that now. The skyline had changed, but the basic grid of the city hadn’t and as long as he kept the Tower in view it wasn’t too much of a problem to find his way back. He got lost within the building more than he did in the city.

“Of course,” JARVIS agreed. “Your phone is charging by your chair.”

Steve nodded and went to fetch it. He frowned at a stack of paper that had materialized in his sitting room, next to his phone on the side table.

“What is this?”

“It was delivered while you were in the shower,” JARVIS said. “Rental and purchase information for apartments and condos in the borough of Brooklyn.”

Steve sighed. _Stark_ _. He just wouldn’t let up about the apartment thing._ The man had been emailing him properties almost non-stop since the conversation last Friday. His phone had beeped, flashed and vibrated with each one until he’d gotten JARVIS to show him how to shut off the notices. They were accompanied by little notes like “This one looks cute” or “this one looks like it’s older than you are” and his personal favorite, “Look! Just your style!” on an apartment that was completely decorated in Americana. That is, if you could call cramming every available surface with American flags, stars, stripes and little patriotic teddy bears “decorating.” He could see Stark’s crabbed blocky handwriting all over the top listing.

“Great.” He grabbed his phone and decided to deal with it later.

“This thing has an alarm clock on it, right?” Steve said using his thumb to unlock it.

“One of its many features,” JARVIS agreed. “Would you like me to set a time?”

“No, I got it, thanks,” Steve mumbled, swiping over until he found the little clock face. He set it for two hours. He’d been ‘awake’ in this time for less than a year, but he’d always been a fast learner and the tech of this time went out of it’s way to be user-friendly. It was the little things that tended to catch him up, vocabulary that had shifted over the years or terminology that flat out hadn’t existed.

“I’ll be back by dinner,” Steve told JARVIS as he headed for the elevator.

“Yes, sir.”

JARVIS was a god-send really, Steve thought as hit the street. Otherwise he’d be stir-crazy and talking to himself. He waved to the guard at the side entrance he usually left by and began a slow jog. He felt in his jacket pocket for his phone and wallet, a quick double check before he got too far out. Maybe he’d pick up dinner on his way back, or stop by that art supply store he’d found last time.

He grinned to himself. Last time he’d been in an art store was before he’d known he had money of his own to spend. It might be dangerous to go into one now… but oh so much fun. He ran past the store, glancing at it out of the corner of his eye. Soon, he promised like he would to a lover, soon.

He did his planned circuit and doubled back to the store when his alarm went off. He pushed his way inside and nodded to the clerk briefly before staring in wonder at the shop. The options had been limited to a poor kid from Brooklyn who only had access to what the five and dime stocked. It had gotten worse as rationing had gotten more wide-spread. He’d been in an art store once, pre-serum, pre-war, and the choices then had dazzled him… as had the prices.

But this? This was heaven. There were a million choices in paper alone, loose or in packs and in every size. You could get sets of colored pencils in shades he didn’t even know existed, or buy them separately. There were markers, inks and a rainbow of paints, oil, watercolor, acrylics. The store had thousands of brushes, different fibers and shapes and handles. There was clay and intriguing little tools for shaping it. He’d never even thought about trying sculpting.

“Need a basket?”

Steve jumped. He wasn’t used to being snuck up on anymore. He must have been really engrossed in his shopping not to hear the clerk, which was kind of amazing considering how much jewelry she was wearing. He counted five piercings on one ear. The topmost piercing had a chain that lead right to a ring through her nose. He realized he was staring and looked down at the basket she had in her hands.

“Basket?” The girl repeated herself with a grin. “Your hands look a bit full.”

Steve looked down at his hands and realized they’d somehow acquired a hardcover sketchbook, a watercolor pad, a spiral bound pocket book, a huge set of pencils, a small set of watercolors, larger set of oils and random brushes, markers, erasers and other tools.

“Oh,” he said and suddenly felt like it was all going to fall out of his hands. “Oh, yes, please!” She held up the basket and he carefully dumped everything in. “Thank you.”

“How long have you been back, soldier?” The girl asked, handing it to him.

“Excuse me?” Steve said, startled again for the second time in less than five minutes.

“You have that look,” she said gesturing to him and then tapping herself. “Military brat, both my Dad and my Mom served, and my kid brother is serving now. I can spot a soldier a mile a way. You got that ‘culture shock’ look that means you’ve been away for a while. How long have you been back for?”

“I didn’t know I was that obvious,” Steve said, and decided to just go with it. It was close enough to the truth after all. “I’ve been home for a while, little over half a year. But I’m still adjusting.”

“Gone a long time?” she asked sympathetically.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “You have no idea.”

“Well, good news,” she grinned clapping her hands, making the bangles halfway up left arm rattle.“We have a 15 percent military discount.” She looked down at his basket. “Are you stocking up for a class? Need help finding anything?”

“No, nothing like that,” Steve waved a hand. “Just stocking up… I’m not sure what I’m going to do with all this stuff. I’ve never even used oils before, they were too expensive. It’s just-” he shook his head.

“Kid in a candy store,” the girl said, with an easy grin. “I totally get it. Why do you think I work here? I get a thirty percent employee discount.” She turned her head and Steve was surprised to see that one side of her head was shaved. She gestured to the store, “It’s a bad scene, man. I’m like that crazy Cocoa Puff bird working in the cocoa puff factory. I never take any money home.”

“Alcoholic running the bar?” Steve said, guessing and wondering what coco puffs were.

“Exactly,” the girl grinned, “This stuff is my poison, but I can’t give it up. I’m Allison, by the way.” She stuck out a hand, this arm covered with some kind of long mesh fingerless glove. She was an awfully pretty dame, he didn’t know why she dressed so strange. “Nice to meet you, Soldier.”

“Steve,” he said, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you, Allison.” He looked down at his basket. “I should probably stop now, hm?”

“Depends on your wallet, and how much free time you have…” She pawed gently through his basket. “If you’re going to try oils, you’re going to want some turp and lindseed oil. And some brush cleaner…and some different brushes. You’ve only got two oils, and they’re not going to be enough. Oh, and canvases!” She looked up. “Unless you’re planing on some whacked out murals. In that case, I’d suggest acrylics.”

“No, no… I think I’ll stick to canvases for now,” Steve laughed. “Or maybe I should just put back the oils…”

“Aww…, but they can be so much fun! But I understand if the spirit is willing, but the wallet is weak. We got some great books on technique, maybe it will help you plan.”

Steve thought about the card in his wallet, and the nearly unlimited money attached to it and the fact he had a generous SHIELD salary now.

“What the hey,” he grinned. “Kit me out.”

“Huh?” Allison blinked.

“Set me up,” he explained, “The whole… the whole enchilada,” he stumbled over one of Stark’s phrases that he thought was appropriate. “I’ve got some money to burn, so set me up with a beginner’s toolkit for oils, and that book too.”

“Seriously? That’s going to take you back, like, a couple hundred, if we do it right…maybe even more,” Allison looked him over doubtfully.

Steve was suddenly aware that he was in just his grubby workout sweats and a faded t-shirt and a beatup windbreaker. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ve got the greenbacks.”

Allison rolled his eyes, “Okay, hipster,” she laughed and linked her arm with his, “this is going to be fun…”

Steve left the store happy, and arms full. Allison had set him up with an easel and a variety pack of canvases and a what seemed a million other do-dads to start him painting. He had the canvases and easel box under one arm and two huge, overstuffed canvas bags, one gripped in each hand.

“Wow,” Allison had breathed. “You know we deliver, if you want to leave any of that here.”

“I don’t live far from here,” Steve shrugged, not really noticing the weight at all.

“Okay, Muscles McGee, have fun with that,” Allison laughed, and it seemed like she did that a lot. “Oh, oh, here…” she raced back to the counter. “Take this, I’m in a sketch-jam group, we meet at least once a month. Come by if you wanna.” She stuffed a flyer into his bag. “All the details are on there.”

“Sketch jam?” Steve’s brow wrinkled, and wondered if it was something he should know about.

“Bunch of artists get together and draw shit,” Allison grinned. “Local coffee shop gives us room, and sometimes we even get models in. It’s a fun time, open to anyone.”

“Sounds like fun,” Steve smiled back. “I’ll take a look at it.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” Allison said from the door of the shop, “I got your poison here.”

Steve walked back to Tower in a happier mood than he’d been in in months. He couldn’t wait to crack into his supplies. What should he do first? Play with the oils? It might be better if he did a bit of reading on that first. The pencils would be the least messy and were the tools he had the most experience with. Colored or black and white…? He nodded to the doorman as he opened the door for him, deciding to go in through the front doors for once. The elevator was closer and it’d be easier to manage with his packages.

“Mr. Rogers!”

Steve’s head came up and he looked around. That sounded like…“Parker?” The boy stood next to Happy and Stark. Steve smiled, and it felt natural for once, not the forced thing he usually managed. “How was your first day?”

“Great!” Peter enthused. “I can’t believe they’re _paying_ me to be here.” He proudly tapped his intern badge.

“Do a little shopping there, Cap?” Stark asked, eying his purchases.

“I found a killer-diller of an art store, just around the corner,” Steve gestured with his chin.

“Killer-diller?” Stark repeated, eyes dancing.

Steve could feel his expression darken. “Yeah,” he said with a slight challenge to his tone. It drove him nuts that Stark seemed to feel the need to point out every one of his out of date phrases. He was… a verbal bully! That’s what he was.

“Art store?” Peter asked. “You’re an artist?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Steve quickly demurred. “I just like playing around, haven’t had a chance in a while.”

“Huh,” Peter said, quirking his head as if he was trying to figure out where to put the new information.

“So, headed home?” Steve asked.

“Mr. Stark is going to give me a ride,” Peter said happily, “In one of his cars!”

“Well, Happy’s going to be driving us both,” Stark said putting a hand on one of the boy’s shoulders and giving him a friendly squeeze. “Peter likes the look of the Bentley.” He glanced at his wrist. “Speaking of which, we should get going, bud, or your aunt will flay me.”

“I’ll get the car, sir,” Happy said and ducked out.

“I’m glad I ran into you, Mr. Rogers,” Peter said, resisting being led away. “Aunt May wanted to ask you to dinner this Sunday, if you’re free. Mr. Stark is coming.”

“Sure,” Steve said, eyebrows raising. “That sounds great.” He suppressed a wince as he suddenly wondered if he should have begged off. It might have been better to give Stark extra time to bond with Peter and his family. Then he remembered that it was _Stark_ he was talking about. He’d better go along just to make sure that May didn’t change her mind about letting Peter work at the Tower.

“If you’re still around, we can drive over together.” Stark sniffed.

“Still around?” Peter asked, looking between the two men.

“Cap’s looking for a new apartment,” Stark said with a florid gesture towards Steve, “In _Brooklyn._ ”

“But why?” Peter’s eyebrows knit together. “Stark Tower is awesome!”

“I know, right?” Stark shrugged his shoulders, he gave Peter a little push towards the door. “Let’s went, kid. Your Aunt already doesn’t like me.”

“I’m just looking,” Steve said with a sigh, “I said _maybe._ ”

“But you’ll come Sunday?” Peter asked, resisting as Stark tried to move the boy along.

“Yes, of course,” Steve straightened. “You can tell your aunt I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Figuratively,” Stark said. “’Cause it’d be pretty weird in reality.”

Just for that, Steve resolved to find some bells and wear them. “See you Sunday, Peter.”

“Later, Mr. Rogers!” Peter said and finally gave into Stark’s prompting. “Mr. Stark, what are we going to do tomorrow?”

“Same thing we do every night, Pinkie,” Stark said, taking on a strange cadence to his voice.

“Narf!” yelled Peter as he went out the door Stark held open. “But, no, seriously… can we use the particle accelerator?”

“That’s a big boy toy, little man.”

Peter let Stark loop an arm around his shoulders and lead him out of the building. Steve watched as the boy leaned, ever so slightly, into the touch and lifted eyes full of hero worship up at Stark.

He shook his head and made his way to the elevator. The boy wasn’t his concern at the moment. His team obviously had everything well in hand. Barton and Romanov would be rousing soon to keep an eye on Peter for the night. Stark had obviously made inroads into the boy’s favor, just as planned.

Back up in his apartment, Steve dumped the easels and canvases in a corner. He decided to banish all thoughts of Stark, Peter, the team. He dug through the bags and found one of the sketch books and pulled out the package of colored pencils. Allison had vetoed his first choice of pencils, declaring them weak, and said if he was going to really go for it he should get the top of the line. These ones made all sorts of fancy claims on the tin about lightfastness, acidity and pigmentation. It wasn’t the largest set they had, even at his most reckless he wasn’t willing to pay out the price they were asking for the one hundred and twenty color set. The thirty color set would do him just fine. Just fine.

He opened the box and took a deep satisfying sniff. He breathed the fresh wood and the strange chalky, lead scent of the colors. He lifted out a pencil and tested the point against one finger. Sharp and perfect.

His drawing had always been a stream of consciousness exercise for him. He meant it when he said he wasn’t an artist. He always figured real artists knew what they were doing, had plans and idea what was going to come out when they started. He just set pencil to paper and was just as surprised as anyone else when he looked at the result.

Apparently Allison was the result today. He grinned at the portrait in his notebook, it seemed appropriate. He was pretty sure she was wearing every one of the colors in his box of thirty. He liked the spunky girl, even if he didn’t understand her mad fashion sense. He fished out the flier out of the bag and smoothed it flat. The next sketch-jam was set for…Friday, could be the perfect opportunity. Allison didn’t see him as Captain America, a man out of time, some legendary figure.

She just saw him as Steve Rogers, a soldier who’d been too long from home. He doubted any of the other artists would be looking for a superhero at their local coffee shop. The thought of talking to regular people, not demi-gods, super-spy-assassains, geniuses that turned into rage monsters or even any genius billionaire playboy philanthropists, was as tempting as the chance to draw. And he bet none of them would even be part of SHIELD.

He never regretted taking the serum, or his service to his country. But every once and a while he’d like to be a regular Joe.

He tucked the flier into the sketchbook and turned the page. Unless aliens attacked or some other catastrophe happened he was pretty sure his Friday would be free.

::0::0::

Of course, early Friday morning aliens attacked, spoiling all his plans.

Well, not aliens exactly. It was actually a young mutant who happened to have the ability to make his dreams a reality.

Actually, ability makes it sound entirely too much like the young man had control of his power, which he didn’t… at all.

And dreams would usually make one think of pleasant things, butterflies, balloons, winged cherubs.

It really wasn’t like that at all. The situation was more like if the young mutant had a nightmare, it was entirely likely that the creatures he was dreaming about would suddenly materialize and try to eat your face.

Yes, that was a much more accurate description. It was a psychic thing, which apparently was a thing that was more than possible in this century. Steve was not happy to have that confirmed.

The nightmares just happened to _look_ like aliens, so it was easy to see how things could get confused. They were nearly as deadly and destructive as the Chitauri had been, imaginary psychic projection or no. There wasn’t an army, only four of the things. But four enemies that couldn’t be killed or destroyed were just as bad as a horde.

Steve panted and walked over to his shield, glancing around for his teammates. Iron Man was in the air, circling. Hawkeye was up among the building tops, saw him point something out to Thor who soared between two buildings. Banner was a presence in his ear, working with SHIELD to figure out where the mutant was. They’d brought in some sort of specialist and they were working together. In this case, Banner’s brains were needed more than his strength as the Hulk. If they didn’t wrap this up soon that might no longer be the case.

The monsters had blinked out of existence, which was bad. They’d be back, but who knew from what quarter.

“Cap,” Black Widow crawled up over some rubble. “They’re gone again.”

“I noticed,” Steve nodded.

“It’s nearly nine AM,” Hawkeye whined over the comm. They’d had to pull him from Peter duty around three am, and it was officially past his bed time. “Shouldn’t this loser be awake by now?”

“Cut the chatter,” Fury’s voice rang out and Steve resisted the urge to pull the comm device out.

“That’s actually helpful,” Banner said mildly. “It does narrow the range of subjects… he can’t be a student in kindergarten through high school… they’d be up by now. Or anyone with a standard nine to five job.”

“College age is a prime age for mutant powers to manifest,” a faintly British voice chimed over the mike, the specialist. “We are close to ESU, perhaps a focus on the dorms there?”

“Do it,” Steve nodded. “Hawkeye, Iron Man, Thor, any sign of the creatures? Maybe the guy has woken up.” That wasn’t the ideal situation, if he had they’d have to wait for the man (or woman) to sleep again before they could locate him.

“Hey! Hey, uh, guys? Guys?! Little help, maybe?”

The Avengers stared in shock as a thin, lithe figure swung out from around a building with all four creatures on his tail.

“Hawkeye, what is he doing here?” Steve already had his shield at the ready. Peter should be in school.

“Dammed if I know, Cap,” Hawkeye said grimly.

“And why, exactly,” Fury’s voice was cool and deliberate, “would Hawkeye know why Spider-man has chosen to make an appearance?”

“Because they’ve been playing tag all over the city,” Widow said lifting a gun and shooting at one of the creatures, stealing it’s attention away from the boy. “You’ve read our reports haven’t you?” She scrambled away as the nasty nightmare critter, an oily black something that looked like a mixture of a dog and an bug, twisted to follow her on entirely too many legs. It chittered and snapped at her heels, but they’d discovered early on the things were terrible at tight turns so she zig-zagged around some rubble and it had a hard time not tripping over it’s own legs.

“Thor, back up Widow. Iron Man, think you can handle two of them?” Steve yelled, he slung his shield out and whacked one across the nose. It gave a hissing roar and turned towards him. He held out his hand for his shield as it ricocheted off of a building and flew toward him.

Widow’s beast was struck with lightening, and fell twitching to it’s side. It gasped and heaved, it was only down for a few minutes.

“I can help the Man of Iron as well as the lovely Widow, should he need it,” Thor proclaimed.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be A-OK,” Iron Man’s tinny voice was smug as two of his repulsor beams knocked the creatures off of Spider-man’s trail. They hissed and growled, and Iron Man flew low enough to encourage them to chase.

Steve caught his shield and braced behind it, the creature was going to impact in a couple of seconds. If he could take the blow correctly he’d go under it and be able to lift it up and over his head, stunning it against the brick wall behind him.

Spider-man landed in front of him and shot out two gooey streams at the creature, trapping it in place.

“Spider-man,” Steve snapped, “what are you doing?!”

“Uh,” Spider-man straightened from his crouch, “Helping? I think?” He looked over his shoulder at the dog-bug-thing thrashing in his webs, only succeeding in getting itself further trapped. “Yeah, helping!” He pumped a fist. “Yay! Teamwork!”

Steve glared at him.

“Not yay?” Spider-man’s posture slumped and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, did I do something wrong?” He glanced back at the thing now firmly plastered to the sidewalk. “These things are the bad guys right? I mean, they look like the bad guys…”

“Definitely the bad guys. Spider-man, could you do the honors?” Iron Man put his voice over his external speakers. “Your webbing seems to be able to hold them.”

“What?” Spider-man turned around and looked at two monsters following Iron Man. “Oh yeah, sure. Awesome!”

He sprang into the air and clung to the side of the building, a couple stories up. He crawled into position and shot out webs in the critters path, making a barrier between two lampposts. The critters tried to go around on the sidewalk, but Spider-man filled the walkway with gummy web-goo.

“Woah there boys!” Spider-man affected a heavy southern drawl, “Don’t chew know that I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-cowboy? This ain’t mah furst time at the road-eee-oh! Yeeehhhaww!” He shouted and launched straight up and covering them in webs, securing them down in a corral of webbing.

“Iron Man,” Steve hissed into the com. “What are you doing? We should get him out of here!”

“Hey, quickest way to get him out of harm’s way is to get these bastards down and his webs work.”

Steve was about to answer when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. “Widow! On your six!” The monster Thor had zapped was up and running again.

“What’s to stop sleeping beauty from dreaming up more of these things?” Hawkeye thudded an arrow in the path of Widow’s creature veering it away from her, and another that sprouted from it’s eye. She followed up with a bullet to the monster’s other eye.

Blind and disoriented it went wild and charged in the direction of the shot that hit him. Steve rushed forward and got in front of her, ducking them both behind his shield. It landed on top of him and he erupted up with a heavy push, forcing it back and up. It reared up nearly vertical as it wagged it’s legs and tried to find earth again.

“Spider-man,” Steve barked, the tactician in him taking over. He’d worry about the boy when there weren’t nightmares prowling the streets. “Pull it back and wrap it up!”

Spider-man gave a joyful shout. “Yes, Sir, Captain, Sir!” He switched back to his terrible southern drawl. “Git ‘long little creepy doggies! TIMBER!”

He swung around behind the creature and shot out a web. It caught the nightmare on it’s back and he pulled back hard. It twisted and started to fall, which immediately exposed the flaw in the young man’s plan.

Steve watched in horror as the bug thing began to fall onto Spider-man, its spiky bug legs catching in his suit. He’d be crushed!

“Use a little more brain power, kid.” Stark’s voice was wry even through the computer speaker as he grabbed Spider-man by his armpits and zipped him out of the way, up into the air. “Timber is what a lumberjack says, not a cowboy.”

“Well, then, s’all good,” Spider-man sighed, hanging limp in his hands, his costume only slightly tattered from the altercation. “I’m a lumberjack?” He grinned up at Iron Man. “And I’m OK.” As Iron Man banked back in a circle over the chittering creature, he shot out webs sealing it to the ground. He gave the man holding him two thumbs up.

“Suddenly your costume makes so much more sense,” Iron Man’s voice was light and carefree.

Hawkeye started singing some nonsense about wildflowers and wearing ladies clothing over the com.

Beside him, Romanov tried to bury a snort. She glanced up at Steve, who was not amused. “We have to introduce Cap to Monty Python,” she said. “Stat.”

“I don’t know who Python is,” Steve growled. “But I doubt we can get him on scene quick enough to help. We’re on our own, so everybody focus.”

Romanov dissolved into hysterical laughter which she tried impossibly to smother in her hand.

“Eh.. he-he-he-he, Eh-he-he-he-he-” high pitched out of breath laughter echoed over the com.

“Oh My God,” Iron Man looked up, “Clint, is that _you?_ You sound like a hyper chipmunk. It’s creeping me out.”

“We’re on our own, guys!” Hawkeye could barely be understood around his giggles. “Python can’t save us now!”

“I do not understand the humor here,” Thor said, sounding put out. “Is Python a mighty warrior of Midgard?” He landed next to an equally confused Steve and put his hands on his hips.

Barton, Romanov and Stark all broke down in loud gasping laughter. Even Banner was laughing over the com.

“Why is everyone laughing?” Spider-man asked, unable to hear the com chatter. He craned his neck and tried to look over his shoulder. “Do I have a tear? Are my unmentionables showing? Are you laughing at my Spider-tushie?”

“Enough!” Fury’s voice was so loud over the communicators that even Spider-man could hear him. “At what point did this become a playground?”

“When the kid showed up?” Iron Man said landing and setting Spider-man down gently. “I’m not seeing a problem, we’ve got the nightmares pinned down. Now it’s just up to B-”

“Codenames when in the field, Iron Man.”

“Big and Green,” Stark finished. “I was going to say “Big and Green,” he huffed. “It’s just up to him to find the mutant who’s dreaming up these things before they pop out of existence again.”

“I believe we have located the mutant,” the British voice said with light amusement. “My team will move in and subdue.”

“What will happen to him after?” Steve asked, remembering the pictures Banner had shown them earlier. This mutant was most likely a very confused child. He didn’t deserve to be locked away like a science experiment because of something he couldn’t control. It wasn’t as if he meant harm.

“He will be kept safe, from himself and those that would harm him. We will endeavor to help him control his gifts.” The voice over the communicator was rich and soothing. “You do not need to worry, Captain. He will be among friends.”

“Fury?” Steve asked, and he didn’t know why he bothered. He didn’t believe the man to tell him the truth, but he didn’t even know British Voice’s name.

“We have an…agreement.. in place for cases like this. As long as the immediate threat is neutralized, we allow the specialist to handle the mutant afterward. This agreement stands until we have reason to revoke it.” The last sentence was not directed at Captain America.

“Thank you for the reminder, Director Fury,” British voice sounded amused, as if he thought he was untouchable even by Fury. “I believe my ride has arrived.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Fury didn’t sound thankful at all. “Avengers, babysit the monsters until we have confirmation that the specialist has contained the threat. Captain, do you think the webs will hold them?”

“You’d have to ask the Spider-man that, sir,” Steve said pressing a hand to his ear. He knew from experience the webs would hold for hours, but saying that would mean having to come clean about Spider-man’s first visit to the tower.

“Since the man can’t hear me, maybe you could ask him for me,” Fury snapped.

“Hey, boss-man wants to know how long you’re sticky stuff will hold for,” Stark said pushing up his face plate.

“Boss man?” Spider-man asked, looking at Steve.

“We work for SHIELD,” Steve explained and pulled out his communicator, a little nub that fit in his ear. He quickly replaced it. “We need to know if these things could get loose.” The nightmares frothed and growled in their web cages.

“Nope,” Spider-man shrugged. “I used the maximum formula. It should hold for at _least_ a couple of hours. What’s Shield?”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” Hawkeye said, appearing next to the boy.

“WAUGH!” Spider-man launched himself up into the air and onto the wall next to them. “Well, uh, it seems like you guys got everything under control now, glad I could help-” he babbled as he skittered backwards up the wall. Even through the mask it was clear he was keeping his eyes on Hawkeye, “I’ll just be going now. Nice to meet you all, talk to you later, I’ll send a card maybe…bye.” He turned around and made a break for it.

Hawkeye popped out his bow and started shooting. “I think I figured out the trick of it,” he said, taking two arrows from his quiver at the same time. “He definitely senses them coming… but he can’t dodge two threats at the same time.” He shot in rapid succession, first a regular arrow, then a padded arrow. The first hit with a flash and a bang that forced the boy to the left. The jump forced him into the path of the second arrow. It caught him square between the shoulders, sending up a huge puff of purple chalk.

“Yes!” Hawkeye jumped up with clenched fists. “I hit the little shit! Booyah!”

Spider-man yelped and made a reckless leap for the roof of the building next him. He fell in a sprawl over the edge and tumbled out of sight. A second later his head popped over the edge. “Hey! That thing hurt, you know!”

“TAG!” Hawkeye yelled. “You’re IT!”

Spider-man made a rude gesture that Steve was sure his Aunt May would not approve of. He tossed out a web and soared away, blowing a raspberry at them as he did. The back of his suit was covered in purple.

“Hawkeye,” Fury’s voice was chilling. “Why did you just drive away a known super-powered fugitive vigilante? If you hadn’t noticed, the organization you work for tends to collect them, and he was in easy collectible distance until a moment ago.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Barton huffed. “The guy just helped us out, big time. He’s not a threat.”

“That is not for you to determine,” Fury growled.

“The things are gone again,” Romanov said, and they all realized how quiet it had gotten without the creatures snarls, yips and growls.

The team backed up together, each facing a different direction.

“Fury?” Steve said. “Word from the specialist?”

There was a long tense beat of silence. “They have the mutant contained,” Fury confirmed. “Stand down and await retrieval to the Helicarrier for debrief.”

Steve checked his watch. It was barely eleven, but he knew that the debriefing process was going to take well into the evening. He might as well give up making the sketch-jam tonight.

“What’s the matter, Cap?” Stark asked, removing his helmet. “Got somewhere to be?”

“Not anymore,” Steve sighed. The flier had more than one date on it. He’d have to check for others, maybe it wasn’t a total lost cause.

“Sorry to interrupt your busy schedule with saving the world,” Stark snipped. “What? Did you have an apartment showing or something?”

“What does that mean?” Banner’s voice was gently curious.

“Didn’t you guys hear?” Stark’s voice was muffled as he shoved his helmet back on. “Spangles doesn’t want to live in the clubhouse anymore. He’s moving out.” He fingered something along the side of his faceplate and it slid shut and lit. “I’ll meet you guys up at the Helicarrier.”

Steve was left to the stares of his fellow teammates.

“I said _maybe_.”

 


	9. Normal Afternoon

“Stark!” Steve protested. “This really isn’t necessary.” He tried to push past the crowd of real estate agents. They were having none of it.

“Mr. Rogers, I’d be honored to work with you-“

Another agent, a woman, pushed the speaker out of the way, “I have a darling little property…”

“A man of your stature, he doesn’t want a little place-” Another woman interrupted.

A tall man spoke over her, “I hear you’re a fan of nostalgia! I’ve got a fully furnished vintage apartment-“

“Nostalgia is great at all, but you need to have those modern comforts-“

“Stark!” Steve called, but the man had already disappeared. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Stark was  _impossible!_  He kept pulling these stupid stunts and then disappearing before Steve could confront him. He looked down at the cluster of agents all pushing and shoving to get his attention and hand him cards and folders.

“EVERYBODY QUIET,” he boomed in his best drill sergeant impression. The real estate agents all hushed and looked at him with wide eyes. “Alright, this is how it’s going to work. Everyone line up and get your materials ready. You can give me whatever information you have on hand, and then exit the building. If,  _IF_ , I’m interested in working with you,  _I_ will call  _you_. Is this understood?”

They all nodded. One man raised his hand.

“Yes?” Steve said, voice quieter.

“Um, autograph…?”

Steve hung his head, “Yes, I’ll sign anything you want…”

The crowd grew excited and quickly shuffled into order, ready to hand out packets and get signatures. Steve tried not to be to cross with them, it wasn’t their fault that Stark had gone off the deep end. He took their cards, packets of housing information, signed a few notepads and let a few of them take pictures with their cellphones. 

He got to the end of the line and looked up to see his team, sans Stark, staring at him from the other end of the hall. They clustered in front of the express elevator, looking hesitant and uncertain. He frowned. It wasn’t normal to see them all together this time of the day. He checked his watch. It was about noon, Barton wasn’t usually up before three since he’d gone nocturnal.

And besides that… what were they doing on his floor? It was kind of an unspoken agreement that they only met in the common areas of the building, since there were so many. Otherwise there was a chance of them losing the little privacy they each had.

“Did I forget a meeting?” he asked, shifting the tower of paperwork he had to his hip.

They all shuffled around and looked at each other. Banner finally spoke up. “No, no… nothing like that.”

Steve started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, lifted his chin defensively and looked down his nose at them. None of them would meet his eyes.

“Huh.”

“We were thinking of getting lunch,” Banner said, glancing at him quickly, then away. Banner as the spokesperson… this was something personal. If it was something about a mission, it would be Romanov or Barton.

“Lunch,” Steve repeated.

“Yeah, you know, the meal between breakfast and dinner?” Barton quipped. “Only for me, it’s breakfast. Because I got up early for this, so can we move this along? I need coffee.”

“Did you know there was a cafeteria on five?” Banner asked. “We were going to head there.”

“The employees eat there,” Steve pointed out. If they went there it would be hours before they actually had a chance to eat. One of the perks of working for Stark in the Avengers Tower was being able to occasionally meet the heroes that lived on the upper floors. It was a very rare opportunity, and the employees doing lunch wouldn’t pass up a chance to get something signed from the whole team.

“Oh,” Banner shuffled. “Um, I know a good Indian place…”

“Banner,” Romanov snapped. “We can’t talk there. We cleared five.”

 ”You kicked all the employees out?” Steve said, momentarily horrified. Then he focused on the first part of the statement. “So this is about talking?”

“We have something to discuss, good Captain,” Thor nodded. “Yes.”

Barton shifted and crossed his arms. “Coffee!”

“Give the employees back their cafeteria, that’s just mean. We can talk anywhere.” Steve sighed, “C’mon in… I’ll make… something.” He waved them over to his door. He thought he might have enough pasta to feed everyone, though with his metabolism he’d have to eat again in an hour or two. Hopefully this talk wouldn’t last that long. It was kind of embarrassing to be constantly feeding his face, it makes him feel like a glutton… and then stupid for feeling guilty about a natural body function. It was especially stupid when he shared a table with Thor, who could eat him under the table easily.

He saw Barton open his mouth, “I’ve got coffee.” He opened the door to his quarters.

“Let’s do this,” Barton said, and strode through the door. “Woah.”

Steve looked over his shoulder at Barton and missed the rest of the group filing in. “What?”

“You live in your gym?” Romanov asked.

“There’s another room…” Steve said and walked past the boxing ring, and pushed open the door that led to the little apartment. “It’s got a kitchenette.”

“Will we all fit?” Banner asked, and Steve knew Banner was mentally calculating how close he’d have to be to the others, and how much damage he might do if he Hulked out.

“Probably not…” Steve said, knowing they’d fit but it would be tight. It would be unbearable for Banner. “I’ll bring the table out here. JARVIS?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Are there any extra chairs?”

“I believe Master Stark provided for the the possibility you may wish to have a public match in your ring.”

A panel slid open and revealed folding chairs tucked into the wall.

“Thanks,” He jerked his chin at the stash. “You guys set up those, I’ll get the table.” He walked into his apartment and put the pile of paperwork on the coffee table in the sitting area.

The whole group promptly ignored his suggestion and tromped into his home, except for Banner who just peeped in from the doorway. Barton went for the coffee pot, rooting around the kitchenette’s white cupboards until he found a mug.

Natasha did a slow turn in the room, taking in the kitchenette that bordered with the little sitting room. Thor stood with his hands on his hips in the sitting area, head on a swivel as he took everything in. His apartment seemed a very small space with everyone in it.

“This furniture is all…old.” Natasha ran her hand along the back of his high back winged leather chair. She started to reach for his sketchbook sitting on the side table, but Steve got there first. He tucked it into a drawer and gave her a firm look. Her expression didn’t change, she just turned her attention elsewhere.

“I think the term is ‘vintage,’” Barton corrected. “Dude, this is weird. It’s like a time capsule.”

“Your bed is so puny!” Thor called and Steve realized the man had gone into his bedroom. “How can you fit yourself in it?”

Barton and Romanov crowd the bedroom door. Romanov turned, looked Steve up and down and then back at the bed.

“A single?” Barton asked into his coffee mug, staring at the bed.

“I’m just one person,” Steve shrugged, not seeing the issue but feeling the back of his neck heat anyway. He picked up the kitchen table and forced Banner out of the door. He hoped that the others would take the hint and leave the apartment.

“Cap… Steve?” 

Steve looked up, surprised to hear Banner call him by his given name. They’d all mostly taken to calling him Captain or Cap. “Yeah?” He set down the table and busies himself with separating it so he can put the leaves in. They’ll need it with everyone being there.

Banner glanced at the door and none of the others have followed Steve out yet. He leaned closer to Steve and lowered his voice.

“You… you know the other rooms, on this floor…They’re yours too, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said straightening and rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t at first, but yeah, I know. JARVIS told me.” He’d finally wandered through them yesterday. If he was going to give up his rooms at the Tower, he figured he should know what he was giving up. There was one room that was just a large bedroom, with a large fourposter bed and huge windows. There was a living room with a big couch and a big television, which looked strange and futuristic among all the old… _vintage_ … furniture.  

There were a couple others, a small modern gym with a treadmill, machines and weights for one. And there was a big kitchen at the other end of the hall… but he hadn’t stocked that one so it would be more of a pain to move down there. Plus, he hadn’t had a chance to clean it yet.

Banner was looking up at him with his eyebrows quirked. He helped Steve lay in the  leaves of the table. “Then why…?” He was still speaking quietly, ignoring the others as they poked around his apartment and asked where his TV was, what was with the easel, and didn’t he have a game system?

“The other rooms are too big for one person,” Steve shrugged. “I’m comfortable here.”

He was aware that this room was probably meant as a guest room, or possibly even staff quarters. Maybe Stark thought he’d hire his own “Happy,” or “Pepper” and house them here. But it fit him better than any of the other fine rooms on the floor.

The others marched out with place settings, glasses, napkins and a tablecloth. 

“I’ll set up the chairs, you were going to make something?” Banner asked.

“Pasta okay with everyone? I only have jarred sauce.”

Everyone nodded and Steve went to start boiling the water and dumped the sauce into a sauce pan. He peered in his fridge, he thought he had a head of lettuce and a tomato. It would make a plain salad, but it was better than nothing. He began chopping the lettuce, half an ear cocked to the conversation in the other room. He doubted they realized that he could hear him from the kitchen. It was an advantage he wasn’t going to let them know about, at least not until he knew why they felt it necessary to gang up on him.

“We need five chairs, and five settings.”

“We can count, Tasha,” Barton griped and Steve heard some clattering and clanging as chairs were dragged about. “This is stupid.”

Banner whispered, “I can’t believe we’re making him cook.”

“That’s why I said we should have ordered something in advance,” Romanov hissed back. “Chinese or pizza. I knew he wouldn’t go for the cafeteria. And really, an Indian place?”

“They have good food,” Banner said defensively. “I thought the cafeteria would be nonthreatening. I don’t think Cap is going to take this well, perhaps we’re being too forward. This is his business.”

“It’s all of our business,” Romanov disagreed. “We deserve some explanation.”

Steve put his knife down with a deliberate clank and waited for Romanov to hush the others before putting the salad in a bowl.

“The Captain is a man of many talents, is he not?” Thor boomed. “The Lady Pepper has often said that women like being cooked for. Perhaps he would teach me how to cook?”

“Anytime,” Steve said coming out of the kitchen with the salad and some dressing. “Although I wouldn’t call what I do real cooking. I only make simple stuff.” He set the salad on the table and politely pretended he hadn’t heard them. “The pasta will be done in a few minutes, can I get anyone anything to drink? I have…” he thought for a moment, “orange juice, milk… and um… water.”

“Water is fine,” Banner nodded, and the others agreed except for Barton who wanted more coffee. Steve returned to the kitchen poured in the pasta, stirred the sauce, and filled a pitcher with water, ice and a few slices of lemon. 

He paused and gripped the counter top. He was ready for this to be over, _pleaseandthankyou._ He wasn’t even sure what  _this_ was. But he’d never been good at the interpersonal stuff, he’d left that to Bucky. Bucky was the one who’d made friends easily, and then roped his tiny awkward friend Steve into his adventures. When they were kids, he’d been the one to assign roles when they were playing pretend, and smooth over the arguments over who got to be the cop and who had to be the robber. After the serum… he’d been too busy fighting Hydra. If something came up in the Commandos… well, he was the Captain and everyone deferred to him. This team wouldn’t, couldn’t, work that way, not with the personalities involved. He’d just have to adjust.

He was tried of having to adjust.

He grabbed the pitcher and headed out of the kitchen. “About five minutes on the pasta,” he said, pouring out water. “Anyone need anything else?”

“We’re good,” Barton said with a yawn. He squinted around the room as he absently unfolded his wraparound sunglasses and put them on. Steve wondered idly if he had a light sensitivity or if it was just a reaction to being mostly nocturnal these days.

“How’s Parker doing?” Steve asked. 

“Been easy since we brought him in. Kid’s obsessed with his tablet,” Barton shrugged. “Takes it everywhere, school, store… I bet he even sleeps with it. He’s even been taking it with him on _patrol._ ”

Romanov’s lips quirked at the edges. “He keeps stopping to play with it.”

“Makes our job easier,” Barton shrugged. “I’m not complaining.”

Steve shook his head and grinned. “I keep forgetting how much of a kid he is.” 

“I hope we can convince him to talk to us soon,” Banner fiddled with his water glass.

“We rush it, we may lose him,” Barton reminded and lifted his mug to his lips. He gave it a disgruntled look, visible even through the sunglasses. “I need more coffee. You need help carrying out the food?”

“Thanks,” Steve nodded and he followed him into the kitchen. He tossed the pasta together, got some tongs and carried it out.

He let everyone dish up first, and took what was left. It wasn’t enough to sate his stomach, but he’d just go out shopping after they left and pick something up.

“So,” he said, twirling a little pasta onto his fork. “What did you want to discuss with me?”

“We heard you’re moving out,” Romanov said with no preamble. 

Steve’s fork paused mid-motion to his mouth. He carefully took the bite and then put his fork down. “Oh, that,” he said after he swallowed. He’d thought this would come up. He’d played it off on the Helicarrier yesterday, and by the time the debrief was over everyone had been too exhausted on the ride back for chatter.

Barton and Romanov share a glance, and Steve is suddenly reminded of Stark’s crack about secrets and super-spy-assassins.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Steve admits, knowing lying was useless.

“Do you mind if we ask why?” Banner asked. “You didn’t say anything yesterday. “

“There really isn’t anything to say,”  Steve shrugged. “I just think it may be good for me to be-” he gave a mild wave towards the wall, “out there. I haven’t had much chance to get acclimated.”

“Acclimated?” Banner asked. “I thought Pepper was helping you…”

“Miss Potts has been swell,” Steve nodded. He could call her Pepper to her face, but it just seemed to impolite otherwise. “And she’s been a great help with a lot of,” he gestured with his fork, “all this. But she’s too busy to baby-sit me through everything I need to know.” He sighed again. “But, at some point I have to get back into the world, the real world.”

“This world is most real,” Thor said with a confused tilt to his head. His plate was clear, Steve noted and he felt guilty for not having more for the large man. He looked at his nearly untouched plate and pushed it his way. Thor took it absently, but kept his focus on Steve. “Have you been suffering from delusions of another?”

“Memories of one,” Steve explained, “the world I grew up in was a lot smaller, simpler. And it’s hard to realize sometimes that it’s gone. Sometimes, a lot of times, I feel like I’m living in a movie serial or a funny book and when I go to sleep,” when he could sleep, “I’ll be back in the War or back in Brooklyn still trying to enlist.”

“I understand this sensation,” Thor said. “Sometimes I believe the rift with my brother is but a terror of the night. But how will leaving the Tower Avenger solve this?”

“It was only an idea,” Steve said, “I also suggested I get job-“

“A  _job?”_ Barton let lose a surprised laugh. “Being Captain America isn’t good enough for you?”

“It’s not that-” Steve started.

“What would you even do? There isn’t much need for Nazi-punching these days.” Barton leaned forward, looking curious. “What did you do before you… you know?”

“Before I enlisted?” Steve deliberately misunderstood, knowing Barton meant before the serum. “I was a newsboy.”

“Newsboy?” Thor asked.

“I’d buy a stack of papers for 3 pennies from the newspaper, stand on a corner and sell them for 5 cents. If I was lucky I’d sell them all,”  Steve shrugged at the poleaxed look on the others faces. He was long used to people having difficulty wrapping their minds around the fact that he’d ever been anything else than Captain America, defender of FREEDOM. “A guy had to eat.”

And most days he could, if there was a good enough headline. Some days he had to turn around and turn in the unused paper for recycling and lay in bed clutching his stomach. He shook his head.

“It was just an idea,” he felt his shoulders hunch defensively. “I also thought, maybe some classes somewhere. People go to school later now.”

“What kind of classes?” Banner’s expression now was sharp and distant, examining. Steve had seen that look before, when they’d had to interrupt the doctor in his lab and his brain was still focused on interesting lab results.

“I was an art student,” Steve said with some reluctance. He hated feeling like a lab experiment. “But the War and rationing kind of nixed that-“

“But you’ve had some training,” Romanov said and his sketchbook materialized in her hands. “This took some skill.” She turned the book to show it to the table. “Who is this?” She asked tapping the picture of Allison.

Steve stood, pushing back from the table in a rush. “Hey!” He glanced between the table and his apartment door. When had she gotten that? 

“She doesn’t work in the building. I would have noticed.” Barton lifted his sunglasses and peered at the sketch. “Wow, hot. I like the piercings.”

“She looks most fierce,” Thor said approvingly. “You have much skill, good Captain!”

“Who is she?” Romanov asked again. “Is she the reason you’re thinking of getting a place with more… privacy?”

Steve flushed bright red and leaned over the table to snatch the book from Romanov’s hand. She pulled back and easily kept it from him, darting her hand away from his grasping fingers. He wondered if she had family. She was playing “keep away” with the practiced skill of an older sister.

“She has nothing to do with it!” Steve growled. Allison couldn’t be more than twenty… which yes, wasn’t all that much younger than he was if you didn’t count his cold sleep, but  _still._ That hadn’t even crossed his mind!

A piece of paper fluttered from the book and Barton grabbed it out of the air before Steve could even register what it was.

“Art-Jam,” Barton read, “Tick-Tock Coffee Shop, Friday-” He looked up, “This was what you missed yesterday?”

Steve reacted badly, he snatched the paper out of Barton’s hand. “That is none of your business!” The art shop, Allison, the coffee shop sketch-jams, they were  _his._ Not SHIELD’s, not the Avenger’s, not the team’s, his! It was the first thing he’d attempted for himself, and now he just knew,  _knew,_ if he ever tried to go to another there would be some black suited somebody watching.

“Calm down,” Banner said softly, gripping the table. “Natasha, give Steve back his sketch book.”

She glanced at him, but the doctor was taking deep steady breaths and looking at the tablecloth like it held the mysteries of the universe.

“Now, please,” Banner said.

Natasha held it out to Steve and he snatched it out of her hand. He flipped it closed and tucked it to his chest like a schoolgirl protecting a diary. He was uncomfortably aware that wasn’t too far off the mark. He wondered if she’d gotten past the first page, because that would be embarrassing. Allison wasn’t the only person drawn in there.

He couldn’t think of a way to sit down that wouldn’t look like a teenager in a huff. He just stood there awkwardly, aware of all eyes on him.

“Her name is Allison,” he said grudgingly. Maybe if he gave them a little they’d let him keep the rest to himself. “She works at the art shop. I’ve only met her once and she was nice.”

Okay, that hadn’t worked very well. Everyone was still looking at him like he was going to explode or burst into flames.

“I just,” he floundered, “it was nice to talk to someone normal.” 

Oh, and wasn’t that just the _wrong_  thing to say? He could see it on even Romanov’s blank face.

“Normal?” Thor boomed. “I know not of most Midgardian standards, but her apparel does not seem in line with most that work in the Tower Avenger, nor those on the storytelling television devices.”

“I think he means, normal as in…not us,” Barton gestured to the table, taking in the demi-god, super spy assassins and sometime rage monster.

And even though that was exactly what he’d meant, he really hadn’t meant it the way everyone was taking it. He really didn’t.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Banner said, his voice soft and unassuming. He stood and looked at the others.

Romanov unwound herself from the chair and strode out, sleek and unruffled. She didn’t spare Steve a glance as she walked away. 

Barton drained his coffee cup. “Whatever. I should’ve stayed in bed.” He stood and clapped Thor on the shoulder. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s go spar, Tony gave me some new arrows to test.” He walked away without waiting for a response.

Thor looked very confused but stood. “I feel we did not accomplish our goal,” he said dubiously. He turned to Steve. “Your waking dreams do you a disservice. I believe your dreams of the past blind you to the truth of the world you now live in.”

Steve frowned, trying to puzzle out the Norse god’s meaning. Hadn’t he just explained he was trying to acclimate?

Thor reached over and squeezed him lightly on the shoulder. “Wake up soon, Friend Steven. There are many here who wait for you.” He swept away, presumably to spar with Barton.

“Sorry to have intruded,” Banner said. His head was on a swivel, glancing at the boxing ring, the punching bag in the corner, the table, anywhere but Steve. “I… we… ” His shoulders hunched, and he had that defensive collapsed in look he’d had on the helicarrier flight deck the first time they’d met. It was a bad look on the good doctor. He looked at his fingers, nervously tapping and twisting together, “the team… we wanted to help. We thought this was just some sort of argument with Tony. He has a way of…getting to people.”

He looked up at Steve, just barely meeting his eyes, and gave a tiny pursed smile. It was painful to see, and Steve was feeling more and more like a heel. “I can understand, I really can, why you’d be looking for some normalcy.” He backed up a few steps, shifting and keeping his eye on the door. “And I can understand why you can’t find that here, with us.” He gave a darting, wry smile, the bad kind, “I think, in the very clinical sense, we are the very definition of abnormal.” 

Banner slowly backed away towards the door with careful, shuffling steps as if afraid to turn his back to Steve. “I’ll support you, in whatever you decide. I understand-“

“ _No,_ ” Steve said emphatically, and followed every instinct that made him a good leader. He lurched forward, dropping his sketchbook to the floor, and grabbed Banner by the shoulders. “You don’t understand! This isn’t about you, or them, or Stark!”

“Cap,” Banner said, eyes closed and his voice barely a breath, “You’re scaring me.”

Steve let go as if burned. He backed away, holding his hands up with fingers splayed wide. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Banner stood and breathed for a moment. He shook his head and took a deep, deep breath, held it and then released it. Banner shook himself lightly. 

“Are we okay?” Steve asked, injecting his voice with calm and sincerity.

Banner cocked his head at Steve and looked up with a faint smile. “We’re okay.” He glanced at the table. “Do you want help with the dishes?”

Recognizing the olive branch, Steve nodded with a slight smile. “I’d like that.”

“Let’s start with clearing the table,” Banner suggested and gestured for Steve to lead. 

Steve gave a little nod, turned scooped up his sketchbook from the floor on the way back to the table. He put the book on a chair and started to gather plates. He checked over his shoulder, Banner had followed and was gathering at the opposite end.

Somewhere along the way between gathering the plates and moving to the kitchen Steve started talking. He worked backwards, telling the quiet doctor about his trip to the art store, and Allison’s keen assessment of him. He explained his excitement and disappointment about missing the art jam, and his suspicions now that Romanov and Barton knew about it. He filled Banner in on the conversation between him and Stark on the night of Peter’s presentation. How strange it was finding out he had his own money, discussing how to get out into the world with Stark and Stark’s continuous pranks afterwards. He showed him the emails on his phone, the stack of referrals and explained the scene Banner and the other’s walked in on with the real estate agents.

“I think he wants me out now,” Steve said handing a dish to Banner to dry. He had a dishwasher built into one of the cupboards, but he didn’t really trust it to get the dishes clean. The first time he used it all the glasses had spots and the plates had a funny film on it. JARVIS claimed it was too much soap, but Steve hadn’t trusted it since.

“You don’t want to go,” Banner stated as he put away a dish.

Steve looked up out the false window above the sink. Like the one in the bedroom he was aware it was a screen, but it looked awfully a lot like a 1940’s Brooklyn street at midday. He relaxed into the illusion. He’d miss these rooms if he had to go, they were a sanctuary against the modern world outside.

“I just said maybe,” he mumbled. It had been an idle thought, one of many.

Perhaps it would be better if he left. Kind of like learning a language by immersion, it went better and faster if you just dropped yourself in the middle of it with no way out.

He said as much to Banner.

“I don’t think so,” Banner shook his head. “I’ve done it both ways. I’ve found myself in odd places and had to figure out how to make myself a part of that world. It’s not easy either way, and you have more to adjust to than most.” He took a glass and meticulously dried it. “I think you should talk to Tony.”

“I’ve been trying!” Steve protested. “He keeps running away.”

“Mmm…” Banner bobbed his head with an amused smile. “He does that.” He looked up at Steve. “So do you.”

“Me? Banner,” he said leaning on the sink and throwing his rag into the sink, “I am the easiest man to find. I don’t think I’ve gone more than five miles from the Tower since I moved in.” He crossed his arms.

“And when you’re in the Tower, you’re in here,” Banner gestured to the room. “You never come out unless you’re sparring with someone.”

“I come out for movie night,” Steve said, shifting defensively.

“Not the ones where we actually watch movies,” Banner said with that same gentle amusement. “You make sandwiches and casseroles for debriefings about Peter, but you didn’t come out for the Harry Potter marathon we threw for Thor.” He waved a hand. “They aren’t bad films, surprisingly. Got a bit dark at the end. Books are better, of course.”

Steve vaguely remembered Pepper inviting him to that, after one of her lessons on how to handle the press. He’d been tired at the thought of dealing with Stark and Barton, who’d been running around playing some sort of game of tag through the building all day. They’d started an argument during a house meeting about sparring schedules. Stark had declared Gryffindor the best house, whatever that meant, and Barton had said he was stupid if he thought the “sorting hat” wouldn’t have put Stark in Slytherin or, at best, Ravenclaw. He’d declined just to avoid the sniping.

“Stupid really,” Banner agreed, ducking his head at the memory. “Especially since Hufflepuff is obviously the best house.” Steve looked at him in askance. “It just gets overlooked because it’s not as flashy as the others.” Banner smiled, teasing the super soldier with gentle nonsense. “It’s my favorite, at least.”

“I’ll come to the next one,” Steve said grudgingly. Then looked down at his too large hands. “If I’m still here. Stark will probably buy me a selection of apartments next and move me out while I’m sleeping.” He could just see it. His bed moved and placed in a new apartment when he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t talk like that,” Banner sighed. “Tony doesn’t want to chase you out. He’s just as unused to this as you are.”

“Unused to what?” Steve asked. 

“Being around people,” Banner shrugged. “I think Pepper and Thor are the only ones good at it.” He seemed to think. “Clint can be, when he wants to.”

Steve gave a dry chuckle. “Are we talking about the same person? Stark thrives on crowds.” Beset with a sudden need to move he walked towards the gym to take apart the table.

“I don’t think we are talking about the same person,” Banner said as mild as ever as he followed. “Crowds are different than dealing with people, individually. You know that.” He folded up the tablecloth. “Tony hasn’t had many friends.”

Steve lifted out the leaves on the table, but cast Banner an incredulous look. “What do you call Pepper, Rhodey and Happy?”

He looked up at Steve with that “I’m so harmless, this won’t hurt” look perfected by every doctor everywhere just before they jabbed you with a needle. “Three people on Tony’s payroll?”

Ouch.

“They are his friends though, better than most have,” Steve protested, stowing the leaves away in a cubby in the wall.

“Of course they are,” Banner nodded, fiddling with the tablecloth in his hands. “I just don’t think he’s ever had one he didn’t have to pay first.”

“He’s got you,” Steve said hesitantly. They certainly had seemed to get on fast, right from their first meeting.

“And he felt the need to build me two labs to prove it,” Banner shook his head. “I don’t think he’ll ever believe I didn’t come for the ten floors of..of… ‘candyland’ as he put it.” He paused and backed away as Steve picked up the table, giving him room to move. “Not that I’m not enjoying that too.”

Steve set his table back in the kitchenette and re-arranged the chairs around it. 

“Why did you come, Steve?” Banner asked from behind him.

Steve twisted to look at Banner. “Come?”

“To the Tower?” Banner prompted. He held out the sketchbook Steve had left on one of the folding chairs outside. “You had choices. You could have stayed at helicarrier, or gone to the apartment SHIELD had gotten for you. Why did you come here?”

He took back the sketchbook and smoothed a broad hand over it’s cover. Steve knew Banner wouldn’t accept “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” even if it were true. 

“I was tired of being stared at on the helicarrier,” Steve said truthfully. “And I don’t know anyone in Brooklyn anymore.” He idly flipped it open, past Allison. He flipped past sketches of green, black and red, lightening and arrowheads, red and yellow, settling on a sketch of Bucky done in sepia tones. There wasn’t anyone left there any more.

“You were looking for someplace to be normal,” Banner interpreted and Steve was surprised to find himself agreeing with the assessment. Banner gave a slight dry laugh.

“Mmmm…” he ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders, “Most wouldn’t think that this was the place for that.” Banner spread his hands, encompassing the tower and all who lived in it. “But for people like us, it might be the only place.” He looked at Steve seriously. “I don’t think you should give that up with out a fight.”

“It’s Stark’s house,” Steve reminded him. “If he wants me out-“

“He doesn’t,” Banner insisted. “Steve, he doesn’t.”

“How can you know that?” Steve asked, looking away from Bucky’s portrait. He hadn’t felt at home or comfortable since that presence left his shoulder. He certainly couldn’t understand a strange man like Stark like Banner seemed to. He snapped the book shut and put it on the table.

“Because,” Banner said simply.

Steve looked at him in askance. Banner spread his hands again and shrugged. “He was awfully excited about getting you and everyone else here. I know he can be a bit, mercurial, but I don’t think he’s ready for anyone to leave the clubhouse yet.” Banner put his hands in his pockets and swayed slightly. “And you don’t want to leave.” 

“So how do you think I should fix this?” Steve asked, deciding not to argue. “Every time I try to talk to Stark he takes off running.” And what the heck would he say to the guy once he had him?

“You’re the tactician,” Banner reminded him. “I’m good at running away, not so much at catching.” Steve sighed and sat down at the table. Banner took pity on him. “Should I lock you two in a room?”

Steve felt his lips twitch into a smile. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Maybe he could ask Pepper to schedule a meeting with Stark. From what he noticed he hardly paid attention to who was on his docket. “Oh, hey, today is Saturday, isn’t it?”

“Yes? Last time I checked?” Banner answered with a quizzical tilt to his head.

“Stark and I are going over to Parker’s for dinner tomorrow,” Steve said. “He suggested we ride over together.”

“Problem solved?”

“Well, closer to being solved,” Steve allowed. “Maybe.”

“You fought Nazis,” Banner reminded him. “I think you can handle Tony.”

Steve was about to answer when his stomach decided to remind him he hadn’t had more than a bite of his pasta with a loud angry growl. He felt a faint flush dust over his cheeks.

“You know, my metabolism is faster now since… the Other Guy,” Banner said. Steve gave him a puzzled look. “I could eat again,” he explained.

“You said you knew a good Indian place?” Steve was more a steak and potatoes kind of guy, but he was willing to try something new. 

“Yes,” Banner lit up. “They’ve got the best papdi chaat.”

Steve decided not to ask. “Lead the way, Banner,” he said standing.

“Bruce,” Banner corrected.

“What?”

“We’re going for lunch, Steve,” Banner said, lips twisted into a wry smile, “not on a mission. You can use my first name. It’s what friends do.”

“Sure, right,” Steve said and followed Banner… _Bruce_ to the door. 

“You do that a lot,” Banner… _Bruce_ said. “It’s a way to distance yourself. Natasha does it too.”

“Barton, Romanov,” Steve groaned. He didn’t worry about Thor, but he was pretty sure he’d burned his last bridge with the two of them. Most people didn’t take being called abnormal very well, even if they were.

“Natasha, Clint,” Bruce reminded, “Um… that might take some work.” He scratched at an ear and squinted at Steve. “I don’t know what to suggest about that.”

Barton was pretty affable, he should be able to corner him and just give a straight out apology. But he didn’t know what to do with a complicated dame like Romanov… Natasha. When he said as much to Bruce the man had only one bit of advice.

“Well,” Bruce said with hunched shoulders, looking around as if he might be heard, “I’d suggest not calling her a… a… “dame” to her face. Or… um, ever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally not the chapter I intended to write. Isn’t it odd how sometimes the characters just say “oh, nope, we need to work this part out first!” They don’t even say sorry. I like it though, and I hope you all will too.


	10. Sunday Dinner

“JARVIS,” Steve called as he carefully combed his hair, “what time is it?”

“About four thirty, sir.” 

“Great.” Dinner was scheduled for half past six at the Parker household. Plenty of time to get a snack and let his hair dry. “Did the flowers come?”

“I had them placed on your kitchen table, sir.” 

“Thanks,” Steve walked out of the bathroom and past his freshly pressed slacks and crisp clean shirt, clad in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. “How about the bells?”

“I was able to find two… I believe the term is ‘jingle’ bells. They are in an envelope beside the flowers.”

“You are a live saver, JARVIS!” Steve said with a grim smile.

“Glad to be of service, sir.”

He was both looking forward to this night and dreading it. Dinner at Parker’s should be enjoyable. Peter was a good kid, he looked forward to spending time with him. He knew the Parker brownstone in Queens like the back of his hand from all the video he’d seen, but he’d like to see it in person. Plus, it was going to be home cooked meal that he didn’t have to cook himself. He hadn’t been lying to Thor about his own culinary abilities, and he’d been getting a bit tired of the few things he knew how to cook.

But before the dinner, he’d have to confront Stark. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to the guy about the, uh, housing situation. He hated feeling like he was begging to, as Bruce put it, stay in the clubhouse. It was an apt description, because Tony behaved like a child more often than not. 

Steve made himself a few sandwiches and poured himself a big glass of milk. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by behaving like a pig at the table, so he planned to take the edge off his appetite now. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost five pm… he hadn’t heard from Stark yet. 

He wondered suddenly if Stark had forgotten his casual offer to ride over to the Parker’s. With traffic, they should be leaving soon, but they hadn’t made any arrangements.

“JARVIS,” Steve said, washing his plate and glass. “Where is Stark?”

“Sir is in his private lab.” So he hadn’t left without him, that was a relief.

“Would you please call him on the private intercom?” Pepper had said he could call anyone on the building over JARVIS like he could on his cellphone. 

“Sir has blocked all incoming pages via intercom,” JARVIS said apologetically. “I believe he was avoiding a board meeting.”

Steve shook his head. “Thanks for trying, I’ll try him on my cell.” He took the phone off the charger, where it usually sat forgotten, and scrolled through his short contact list. Currently he only had the other Avengers, Miss Potts and a general contact number for SHIELD in there. He selected Stark’s name and pressed “call.” 

Pepper had said he could talk to the phone like he did JARVIS, it was keyed to recognize his voice. But he felt awkward doing that in the JARVIS controlled building, like he might confuse the machines or something.

“You have reached the voice mail of- oh come on, you know who I am if you know this number. And if I’m not answering, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Stark?” Steve asked hesitantly. He’d only used the phone a handful of times, mostly to call Pepper. She’d explained the concept of voice mail, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t know what that kind of message meant. But he’d also seen Stark pull his “life model decoy” bit when he didn’t want to talk to someone. Was this a real message or Stark pretending to be voice mail?

The only answer was a long beep. “Hello?” Steve asked again. “This is Steve Rogers.” He said and immediately felt foolish, remembering the phone would identify who called. “Uh, did you forget about dinner at Peter’s?” He waited a moment and then hung up.

Steve stared at the phone. 

“JARVIS, when you make a phone call to someone’s cell phone and it doesn’t ring first before going to voice mail, what does that mean?”

“Usually that the owner is out of range or has turned the cellphone off.”

Well, he wasn’t out of range. He was in the same building. 

“What is he doing?” Steve muttered.

“Currently Sir is attempting to modify his repulsor gauntlets.” JARVIS replied, though Steve was fairly sure that the computer was aware the question was rhetorical.

“He forgot. He actually forgot!”

Steve glanced at the clock again. Just past five, they weren’t late yet. He flew into the other room and grabbed a pair of jeans. He’d learned not to wear nice clothes into the labs early on.

“JARVIS, take me to Stark please,” Steve asked sharply, still buckling his pants. He didn’t bother to shrug a shirt on over his undershirt. He jogged out to the elevator and stepped inside.

“Sir has locked his lab to outsiders,” JARVIS said, though he obediently moved the elevator in the right direction. “You may not be able to enter.”

“JARVIS, I know you control the locks and you can make your own decisions,” Steve said to the elevator wall. He’d stopped looking up at some point, and had started to talk to the building itself, having decided that was JARVIS.

“Yes sir?” 

“Stark has a dinner date with Peter and May Parker tonight at six thirty.”

“There is a notation on his schedule about that,” JARVIS agreed.

“Can you remind him about it?” Steve asked, wondering if it was necessary for him to go and collect the man personally.

“Sir muted me about two hours ago when I tried to remind him of a conference call.”

“What if there was an emergency?” Steve asked.

“Sir has designated an emergency level where lives are directly at risk may allow me to override mute.” There was a pause. “I’m afraid a missed dinner date does not qualify. Also, you should be aware that his lab is currently locked under the same parameters.”

“Well, shoot.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

“It’s not your fault he’s an ass,” Steve muttered. “Excuse my language,” he apologized immediately.

“Forgiven, sir.” JARVIS said, and there was some amusement hidden in the computer voice. “We have arrived.”

The elevator didn’t open directly into the lab, for security reasons. Steve walked out and glared at the clear glass that displayed Stark’s lab like an art exhibit.

Stark stood in the middle with a repulsor gauntlet on and hooked to the reactor in his chest. He was in a battered and torn pair of jeans, had grease and dust in his hair and a stained torn shirt. There were glowing screens and wire models littering the room.

Steve approached the glass, waving to catch the man’s eye. He knew that the glass was sound proof, so it was useless to knock. Stark didn’t even glance his way, working with a long screwdriver on something in his arm. His lips were moving and several of the screens and models seemed to be reacting to his words, moving, rotating and scrolling. Steve jumped around like a fool, hoping the movement would catch the man’s eye.

But Stark was focused on the task at hand. As he watched Stark tossed one hand out and a target shot out like a skeet disc from the table. His repulsor hand went up and he shot out a beam, shattering it. He shot out another disc and twisted his gauntlet hand. The beam widened, and instead of exploding the disc was merely pushed out of the way. 

This was the desired result, apparently, as Stark grinned at his hand before tossing out another disc. This time he twisted his hand the other way and the beam tightened, like a laser. The target was sliced through like knife.

Stark started to grin again but then looked down at his gauntlet with a puzzled look. 

It blew up, sending him flying into a rack of heavy looking equipment.

“JARVIS!” Steve shouted, running for the glass panel with the lock on it, knowing it was the door. “Open the door, he may be hurt!”

“Immediately, sir.”

The door lock disengaged and slid away and Steve rushed in. “Stark! Stark!”

“That was unexpected,” said a small breathless voice under the debris. “I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I figured,” Steve said, shifting a wire shelf carefully out of the way. “Don’t move,” he said finding Stark thankfully in one piece under the mess. “Anything hurt?”

“Everything?” Stark groaned. “Is that an acceptable answer?”

“Vital signs scan complete,” JARVIS’s voice intoned. “Sir has sustained minor abrasions and contusions only. No fractures or similar injuries requiring medical attention. Unable to determine muscle sprains, so Sir should be careful rising.”

“You might have thrown out your back,” Steve said holding out a hand. “Come up carefully and tell me if anything hurts.”

Stark took it and groaned as Steve helped pull him upright. He was bleeding from half a dozen small scrapes and cuts, but nothing that appeared to need stitches. His hair and body were covered in dust, grease and what the dime store lady back when Steve was a child would have called “schmutz.” 

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Stark muttered. He did a double take. “What are you doing here?” He pulled away from Steve once he was standing. “Did JARVIS call you?” he asked with a frown. “Did I black out?” He ran a hand through his hair sending up a plume of dust.

“Not that I noticed,” Steve said, watching the man for swaying or any serious injury. “You were only down for a minute.”

“And you just happened to be stopping by?” Stark asked, still sounding a bit dazed.

“JARVIS,” Steve asked, peering into Stark’s face, “are you sure there is no concussion?”

“No sign of one, sir,” JARVIS assured. “Sir has an especially hard head.”

“Hey!” Stark protested, turning his head to address the room with his protest.

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth. Stark had a jagged cut on one ear. “That looks bad,” he said and grabbed Stark by the back of the head and chin to keep him from moving so he could get a closer look. That might need stitches after all.

“What the hell!” Stark pushed him off and stumbled away. “What are you  _doing_ here?”

“I came to remind you about dinner at Peter’s,” Steve said, advancing on the smaller man. “You have a cut on your ear that needs seeing to.” He reached out to grab his head again. “Let me see.”

“Dinner is on Sunday,” Stark protested, darting out of the way, hands up.

“It is Sunday,” Steve said, brow wrinkling in concern. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“When did it become Sunday?” Stark asked.

“Approximately seventeen and a half hours ago,” JARVIS answered.

“It’s 1730?” Steve asked startled, that was only an hour away from when they were supposed to be there. “We’re going to be late!” He yelped, he looked down at himself. He was covered in Stark schmutz.

“We can do this,” Stark said grimly. “Meet me in the lobby in fifteen!” He ran full tilt to the back of the lab.

“But your ear!” Steve yelled, suddenly remembering.

“I’ll take care of it!” Stark’s voice was fading.

Steve swore and ran to the lift. “JARVIS-“

“I’ll hurry, sir.” JARVIS said calmly and the elevator went into a dizzying drop back down to his floor. 

Steve flew into his apartment, starting to shed clothes as he hit the gym. He was back down to his draws by the time he got to his bedroom. He quickly washed off Stark’s folly before donning a clean undershirt and throwing himself into his dress shirt and pants.

He grabbed the flowers and envelope from the kitchen and ran back to the elevator.

“Lobby!” Steve shouted. JARVIS didn’t bother replying as he sent the elevator into another stomach churning plummet. Steve gritted his teeth and braced against the wall.

He wondered how Stark would handle the drop from the penthouse. He figured it was a stupid thing to worry about. Stark was chronically late, he was probably used to it by now.

JARVIS decelerated the elevator more than he had the last time he “hurried,” so Steve wasn’t ejected quite as badly as he had the last time. He still had to do a funny stumbling half hop to keep from falling, but he thought he recovered well.

“What are those?” Stark asked skipping from the elevator on the other side of the lobby.

Steve didn’t answer, distracted by the man’s complete transformation. He’d somehow cleaned himself up and was in one of his impossibly tailored fancy suits. He even got all the debris and dirt out of his hair by some magic. When he turned his head, Steve could see he’d bandaged his ear with a discrete little flesh-toned pad.

“Cap?” Stark prompted, mouth starting to dip into a frown. Had the man even managed to shave? His goatee certainly looked recently trimmed and tidy.

“I thought you didn’t have superpowers,” Steve blurted, gesturing to the other man. “How-?”

Stark blinked, grinned and spread his hands like a magician doing a big reveal. “Duh,” he rolled his eyes, “Pepper!”

“Boss!” Happy called from the doors of the lobby. “I got the car!”

“Thanks Hap! Keys! I’m driving. We can’t be late,” Stark said running for the door. “Come on, Cap!”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Happy said tossing Stark the keys as they reached the door. “You want me to ride with?”

“Yeah, parking’s going to be a bear,” Stark said hopping into the driver’s seat of the shiny caddy waiting out front. 

“Here you go, Sir,” Happy said with his usual genial smile as he held open the passenger side for Steve.

Steve gave a bemused thanks and slid in. Happy got in the back and Steve had barely buckled his seat belt when Stark peeled away from the curb. Steve grabbed at his flowers, crushing his envelope as he kept them from sliding off his lap.

“So you never said,” Stark said, his casual voice at odds with the fierce concentration on his face. “What’s with the posies?”

“They’re for May,” Steve said, quickly checking them over. “As a thank you for dinner, a hostess gift.”

“Crap, I should’ve gotten something,” Stark muttered. “Hap!”

“On it, Boss. Chocolates?” Happy had his cell to his ear.

“Have them meet us there.”

Steve grabbed at the frame of the car door as Stark cornered a turn without a pause, narrowly missing yellow cab.

“Gosh!” he blurted.

Stark glanced at him.

“Eyes on the ROAD, Stark!” Steve said, unconsciously falling into his “Captain America” voice.

Stark’s head whipped back and he frowned. “What?” His eyes scan the street for a threat, but there isn’t so much as a jaywalker. Then the man’s expression cleared and Steve knew he was in for trouble. “Oh!” Stark looked positively delighted. “Am I  _scaring_ you, Cap?”

“You are driving like a maniac,” Steve said, clutching the dash and only just remembering not to clamp down with his super strength when Stark skated through a yellow light. “Any sensible person would be scared.”

“Are you scared, Happy?” Stark said glancing in the rear view window.

“Eyes forward!” Steve yelped.

“Not at all, Boss,” Happy grinned. “Chocolates will be waiting for us there.”

“See, Happy’s not scared,” Stark wove in and out between cars.

“I question the sanity of anyone who works for you,” Steve muttered.

Stark grinned, “We weren’t talking about sanity. We were talking about courage Captain Scaredy-pants.”

“I said any person with sense,” Steve sniped back. “And I don’t think a person with sense would work for you.”

“Hey, he’s insulting you there, Hap.” Stark said.

“Well, can’t say as he’s wrong, Boss,” Happy said cheerfully from the back and Steve now had no doubt how the big man had gotten his name. “Sometimes I wonder why I work for you too. Like when people try to kill us in Monaco.”

“That wasn’t people, that was one person,” Stark shrugged.

“Still almost died, Boss.”

“Point.” 

And then they were there, and Steve realized he’d never broached the subject of staying in the Tower. Happy hopped out of the car and opened Stark’s door for him, taking the keys as he did.

Steve stepped out of the car and steadied himself. He felt the crush of paper between his fingers and remembered the bells. He considered stuffing them in his pocket and forgetting the weak gag, but then Stark sent him a smirk as he walked over to a lurking delivery boy standing at the corner.

He tore open the envelope and found a pair of small bells on a string. He wrapped them around the button on the flap of his shirt pocket and let them swing above his heart. Stark walked over with a long box of chocolates under an arm.

“Gonna call when you want me to pick you up, Boss?” Happy asked from the front seat of the car.

“You got plans tonight?” Stark asked. 

“Nah, I thought I’d catch a movie or sumthin’,” Happy shrugged. “Grab a bite maybe.”

“Expense it out,” Stark said, “I’ll call when I’m ready to go.”

“I was gonna any way,” Happy grinned as he pulled away from the curb.

“I’m too generous,” Stark shook his head. He turned to Steve and looked him up and down. “Do you own anything besides khakis and plaid?”

_No_ , Steve thought, unless you counted his Captain America uniform or his replica class A dress uniform. Out loud he said, “I like plaid,” even though he didn’t really have a preference. Most of his wardrobe had been bought by SHIELD when they were trying to keep up the lie that he was still in the past.

They’d offered him new clothes, after. But it seemed awfully wasteful to just discard brand new clothes like that. They were comfortable enough, and he honestly never noticed much what he put on.

“You should have Pepper take you shopping,” Stark said heading up the stairs to Peter’s brownstone. “She loves makeovers.”

“I think she’s a bit busy running your company,” Steve said. “And I don’t need new clothes.”

“Yes,” Stark said, raking a critical eye down him, “you do.”

“No,” Steve started, jogging up after him, “I-“

“Are those bells?” Stark asked as he pressed the bell, his eyes drawn back to him at the faint jingle.

The door opened before Steve could answer and Peter was there.

“Mr. Rogers! Mr. Stark! You’re here!”

Steve wondered vaguely how long it would take Peter to stop talking in exclamations every time he saw them.

“With bells on,” Steve said and flicked the bells so they jumped and jingled, “As promised.”

“Oh my God,” Stark muttered. “You actually found  _bells._ ”

“Don’t all stand at the door,” May said from the hallway. “Come in, come in.”

“Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Parker,” Steve said handing her the flowers.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” May said with a blush, taking the flowers with real delight. “And please, call me May.” She glanced at Stark, and a little of her enthusiasm dimmed. “Both of you,” she said and only sounded slightly grudging about it.

“Thank you, May,” Stark said and held out his own gift. “Sweets for the sweet.”

“Thank you,” May said looking a little surprised. “Peter, why don’t you take their jackets and lead them into the living room. I should check on dinner.” She smiled at the flowers again. “And I’ll find a vase for these.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter complied and held out his hands for jackets.

They were settled quickly into the den, and Stark took a high back chair that looked a lot like the one Steve had in his living room while Steve sat on a love seat. He felt large and imposing in the small room, taking up a seat meant for two.

Peter shuffled around the room, like he didn’t know where to settle. Stark took out his phone and began tapping at it. 

“So, Peter,” Steve said and the boy jumped. “How is school going?” It was a stupid question he knew the answer to, but it seemed the kind of thing a grown up should ask a boy.

“Good.”

“Just good?” Stark said, glancing up from his phone with a grin. “Better not be letting your grades slip. I don’t want to lose the best intern I have.”

“I’m you’re only intern,” Peter said with a grin. “Which means I’m also your worst intern.” He lit up. “Which means I’m also your most handsome intern.”

“And my ugliest,” Stark quipped.

“And your most popular intern,” Peter nodded. “Brightest intern, boldest intern, best intern.”

“And the most unpopular,” Stark said with a tilt to his head. “Dullest, most cowardly, worst intern.”

“The pressure is incredible,” Peter put a hand to his forehead. “How will I survive?”

“Don’t swoon yet, little man,” Stark said. “I haven’t gotten my pound of flesh out of you yet.”

“Little man?” Peter looked affronted. “I’m as tall as you are.” He glanced at Stark’s feet. “When you aren’t wearing  _heels._ ”

Steve glanced down at Stark’s feet. “Are you wearing lifts?” he blurted, only now noticing the thick sole and heel to Stark’s fancy shoes.

Looking only mildly affronted, Stark responded with a sniff. “They are called Cuban heels, and they’re fashion.” He gave another rake of his eyes over Steve in his plaid and Peter in his button down Sunday best shirt and slacks. “I don’t expect either of you to understand.”

When Peter continued to smirk, Stark waved a hand. “Lifts are hidden, heels are on purpose.” He frowned at Peter, “John Wayne wore heels.”

“Who’s John Wayne?” Steve asked.

“Famous cowboy actor,” Stark explained. “Very manly. Very. Wore lots of boots.” He glared at Peter. “With _heels.”_

“Suuuure,” Peter drawled, and flopped next to Steve, forcing him to squeeze over. “You keep telling yourself that,  _little man._ ” He glanced at Steve as if to let him join in the joke. But Steve had never been clever with words, so he just gave Peter a little approving smile.

Peter’s own grin blossomed, and he and Stark continued to snipe at each other genially. Steve looked around the room. The mantle was full of pictures of May, Peter and an older man Steve assumed was Peter’s late great uncle. There was one of a young man and a smiling woman. The man looked so much like Pete that it had to be his parents.

“Lemonade?” May asked, carrying in a pitcher and some glasses on a tray. 

“Thank you,” Steve said accepting a glass, as did Stark.

“Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. I made a roast,” May smiled and perched on edge of a high backed wooden chair. “I know it’s a small thank you for the opportunity you’ve given Peter-“

“Aunt Maaaay,” Peter protested with a furious blush.

“I haven’t given Peter anything,” Stark said, sipping his lemonade and looking out of place in his suit and heels in May’s homey living room. “He earned his spot.”

Steve could feel Peter puffing up next to him.

“I always knew Peter would go far,” May said looking at the boy fondly. She turned to Steve. “And how are you involved in the Science Hero program? I know Peter has been working with Mr. Stark-“

“Tony,” prompted Stark.

“But I was lead to believe that you would be involved as well,” May continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted.

Steve straightened. “Oh, uh,” he skated a look towards Stark, “My part is largely, um, symbolic.” Story of his life. “Because I gained my abilities through, uh, science.”

“And he’s our test subject,” Stark said as May’s face started to fall. “So he’s around a lot.”

Steve almost blew it by blurting “I am?” but he held it back when Peter went rigid beside him.

“Is that what all that stuff you had me read was about?” Peter wiggled in his seat. “The molecular change papers?”

“You said you like chemistry best,” Stark shrugged. “It’s biochemistry at it’s finest, studying how Steve Rogers became Captain America.” He put away his phone. “Dr. Banner was impressed by the questions you asked about those papers.”

“He was?”

Steve covered his mouth, with a hand. Peter just squeaked like a girl who’d found out his crush had asked if he was free for the Sunday social.

“Dr. Banner,” May said testing out the name. She put a hand to her chest, “Isn’t that the… the… what’s his name… the Bulk?”

“The… the Hulk, Aunt May,” Peter said, sounding strangled. “They call him the Hulk.”

Stark threw his head back, “The Bulk!” He laughed. “Oh, Man, I can’t wait to call him that. The Incredible Bulk!”

“Dr. Banner is brilliant, Aunt May,” Peter hastened to reassure her. “And he’s hardly ever the Other Guy…. that’s what he calls his, uh, the Hulk. I’ve never seen it.”

“Bruce’s control is truly incredible,” Steve nodded. “I know the news reports would like you to think different, but Bruce wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Well if _you_ think it’s safe,” May said, still looking dubious. She stood. “Dinner should be ready, won’t you follow me?”

They retired to the dining room, laid out with china that was probably as old as Steve was. May sat Steve at the head of the table and with Peter to his right, Stark to his left, and herself at the other end. She brought out a roast with all the fixings, fingerling potatoes and carrots. There was a salad, broccoli, and thick crusty bread. It looked mouth watering.

Stark started to reach for a slice of the bread as she placed the basket on the table. May slapped the back of his hand with a loud smack.

“Ow!” Stark drew his hand back and cradled it against his chest protectively, shocked.

“Aunt May!” Peter hissed, bright spots of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

May settled into her seat with no apology. “We say grace in this household, Mr. Stark-“

“Tony,” Stark muttered, shaking out his hand.

“Steve?” May said, ignoring Stark, “Would you mind?”

“Not at all, May,” Steve said and bowed his head and said a quick simple prayer, like he’d done every meal with his mother. He hadn’t done it in a while. No one at the Tower did and it seemed like it just wasn’t done anymore. It was comforting to know that it hadn’t disappeared all together.

May let Steve serve and he dished up for everyone else first before taking a portion of the roast for himself. He was pretty sure he’d given reasonable portions to everyone. His perceptions were skewed at this point after eating with Thor and Banner.

“Why does he get to be Steve and I’m still Mr. Stark?” Stark mock-whispered across the table to Peter as he handed the boy the rolls.

“Because she has a crush on Captain America,” Peter whispered back.

“Peter,” May said calmly, but there was warning enough that Peter sat back in his chair looking chastised.

There was an uncomfortable silence as they pushed their food around on their plates.

“This is…delicious,” Stark said, sounding surprised. He took large bites and sopped up at the juices with his bread. He polished off his portion in just a few minutes. “More?” He held his plate out to Steve.

Steve shook his head as he dished up more, “It’d probably be even better if you tried chewing.” He put a serving of broccoli on the other man’s plate, “And eat your veggies too. Try some salad. You don’t get enough greens.”

“How do you know what I get?” Stark said, taking his plate back eagerly.

“I asked JARVIS,” Steve shrugged. “Your diet sucks.”

“Ignoring the stalker quality of that statement,” Stark said turning an incredulous eye to Peter, “Did Captain America just say “sucks”? He did, didn’t he? I didn’t imagine that?”

“He did,” Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“Barton uses that word all the time,” Steve said, lowering the fork he’d been about to put in his mouth. “It means “bad” doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Stark agreed. “I just didn’t expect to hear you say it. Plus, Clint isn’t a good example to follow.”

“Like you are?” Steve asked, trying to hide a light dusting of a blush on his cheeks. His damn fair skin showed everything. “You swear every third word.”

“Not me either,” Stark agreed, pushing aside a piece of broccoli to get to more roast. “Pepper, or Bruce, those are good examples.”

“Is what I said offensive?” Steve glanced between Stark and Peter, and he could feel his ears warm. “They say it on the radio, I thought it couldn’t be too bad.”

“You thought wrong,” Stark said loftily.

“You should be more careful,” Peter said, wide-eyed. “I would’ve gotten smacked for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized, looking up at May. “I’m still getting used to-“

“They’re teasing you,” May said, and her eyes were dancing. “It’s not considered very rude these days. A little juvenile maybe, but not too bad.”

Steve’s mouth shut with a snap and he glared at Stark. “You are an-” He bit off the swear, shaking his head. Only Stark could drive him to swear in front of a nice lady like May. “And you’re no better!” he mock glared at Peter. “Don’t encourage him!” He jerked a thumb at Stark.

“I don’t think he needs any encouragement, Mr. Rogers,” Peter grinned, ducking his head and digging into his meal. “And I don’t think I can stop him either.”

“Aw, Cap, you’re cute when you blush,” Stark said sweetly.

“Lay off,” Steve huffed, resolving to eat his pot roast before it got cold and ignore the man. Doing otherwise just gave him more ammunition to use against him. Stark always seemed to know just what to say to make him most uncomfortable. “Eat your veggies,” he couldn’t resist adding when he noticed that Stark had pushed them all to one side of his plate.

Stark rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, Pops,” he said, but he obediently speared a piece of broccoli.  ”So, May, what does a gal like you do for fun?”

“I volunteer in the neighborhood,” May said. “The local senior center always needs extra hands, and the rec center. I also work part time at an office doing a little clerical work.”

That surprised Stark. “What, you work for fun?” The man blurted.

“I work to pay the bills,” May said with pride. “Ben made arrangements, and I have his pension and social security, but there are always extra expenses that seem to crop up.”

“Ben was your late husband?” Steve said, knowing from his own experience that it wasn’t comfortable to talk money and bills when you were poor and the other person wasn’t. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, and yes.” She stood and went to a small buffet by the table. She picked up a small silver frame and looked fondly at it. She handed it to Steve. “This was Ben.” 

Steve looked down at the photo, obviously quite a few years old. Peter looked to be around six or seven, and May looked much younger. The man at their side had a huge grin on his face and a silly hat on his head that looked like a wizard. Peter was holding a bunch of balloons and had a hat that had mouse ears on it. 

“Aw, Aunt May, not that picture!” Peter protested. “I look like such a dork!”

“You’re cute,” May disagreed. “You begged for those ears.”

“Disneyland or Disney World?” Stark asked peering over Steve’s arm.

“Land,” May said settling back into her seat. “We were visiting my sister out in California and were able to take day.”

“Disney?” Steve asked handing Peter the photo to put back on the buffet behind him. “Like the cartoon guy? Oh hey, I get it! That hat’s like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice bit in Fantasia, and that’s Micky’s ears! Wow, people still watch those? I loved those cartoons!” He turned to Stark. “What is Disneyland?”

“An amusement park in California,” Stark said with a bemused look on his face. “Disney World is a larger park in Florida.”

“You like cartoons?” Peter asked, slack jawed.

“Sure, who doesn’t?” Steve shrugged, surprised at the question. “Sometimes it’s the best part of going to the movies. Hey, did’ja ever see Dumbo? That’s one of Disney’s. It’s about a flying elephant-” Everyone was staring at him. He looked down and pushed some salad around on his plate. “Oh, uh, I guess that’s a bit before your time.”

“Of course I’ve seen Dumbo,” Peter said. “I’ve seen all the Disney movies.”

“He made more?” Steve asked happily. “He’s not still-?”

“No, but he did a lot more before he passed. His studios are still making movies,” Stark said. “They started making live action stuff in the fifties, and it’s an empire now. They own TV stations, and make a ton of stuff. Dad used to get mad about it. People were always talking about Disney’s vision. He complained that people fell over themselves to talk about Disney’s dreams, while he was making dreams come true.”

“I think people will always prefer dreams to reality,” May said. “Anything is possible in a dream after all.” She gave a gentle smile. “Sleeping Beauty was always my favorite Disney movie, though Peter used to be afraid of the dragon. He preferred Bambi.”

“I did not!” Peter said affronted. “I liked Toy Story!”

“That doesn’t count, that’s Pixar,” Stark pointed a fork at Peter. 

“And Disney owns Pixar!” Peter said. “It’s the same!”

“Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that, Bambi,” Stark smirked.

“That is not going to become a thing,” Peter’s hands clenched at the table’s edge. “Nuh-uh, no way!”

“What’s your favorite Disney movie, Tony?” May asked.

If Stark noticed that May had finally started using his first name, he didn’t comment on it. He just tapped a chin, considering. “If Pixar counts, Wall-E, if it doesn’t, Peter Pan.”

“Disney made a movie out of Peter and Wendy?” Steve asked. “Wow, I bet that one’s fun.”

“Makes sense you’d like the one about the kid who won’t grow up,” Peter said stabbing his pot roast. “Suits you. I mean, he even flies!”

“Peter,” May started to admonish but Stark interrupted her with a laugh. 

“You aren’t the first to say that,” Stark agreed. “Does that make Pepper Wendy or Tinkerbell?”

Steve smiled as the table chatter continued with a debate first if Pixar really did count as Disney movies. This felt so nice, normal, even if he didn’t understand half the conversation going on. Then the merits of “2-D” animation versus “3-D” animation, which confused and intrigued Steve into asking more questions. The conversation moved to other types of 3-D movies, and if they were a gimmick or cool.

“They’re a gimmick,” Stark said waving a hand, “And they aren’t even real 3-D. I can do better 3-D on my phone.”

“On your phone?” May asked.

Stark pulled out his “phone” which looked to Steve no more than a thin pane of glass.

“Yeah, see,” Stark said waving a hand over it, and waving his fingers over it like a magician in some complicated pattern. A ball appeared on the screen. He made a pulling motion and the ball appeared above the screen. “This is true 3-D, a hologram that can be experienced from all angles. You don’t even need any special glasses.” He rotated the ball and then tapped it with a finger. It “bounced” up and down between the tip of his finger and the phone screen.

“That is amazing,” May breathed. “Oh, Peter! Can you see?”

“Yeah, that’s nothing,” Stark preened, flicking his fingers and making the ball fly right at May.

“Oh!” She gasped and held up a hand to catch it. It “shattered” against her palm, turning to fairy dust. “Oh my!”

“It’s like watching the sorcerer from the “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” isn’t it?” Steve said, because the few times he’d had an opportunity to watch Stark work the comparison had been inescapable. He pulled things out of his screens like a wizard, and made magic happen.

“You should see the lab, Aunt May,” Peter gushed. “You can make life sized holograms, and make them move, turn them inside out-“

Steve really liked seeing Peter like this. In most of the video he’d been so far from this bubbling teen that it almost seemed like another person. In school he’d had a constant worry furrow between his brows as he guarded against attack from the bullies at school. When he worked on his Spider-man tech he had a grimness that was disturbing to see on a boy his age. Any time his aunt wasn’t in the room, the boy’s shoulders had slumped and he’d looked so exhausted.

Barton and Romanov were keeping him reigned in enough that he was getting more sleep, and his part time job was keeping him out of his ‘spider-lab’ as Stark called it. The mission to discover Spider-man had revealed Peter, but Steve felt like he was just getting to know the real Peter now. He reminded him a lot of Bucky when they’d been kids, confident, hopeful, brash. He was smarter than anyone he’d met outside of Stark and Banner. If there was anything he could do to help this kid stay a kid a while longer, he wanted to do it.

“Need help with the dishes?” Steve asked as they cleared the table. Peter had dragged Stark off to show him his “lab,” leaving May and he alone together.

“I’ll load the dishwasher if you clear,” May said, comfortable ordering around Captain America after a lounging dinner conversation on Disney and holograms.

“Can do, Ma’am,” he grinned. “Thanks again for asking us to dinner. I don’t know many people in town, um, anymore. It was nice to get out.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Steve,” May smiled. “This is the first time we’ve had people over since… Ben.” Her smile dimmed a little. “It was nice.” She nodded. “It was nice.”

“Can I ask…?” Steve asked softly. “How did you lose…?” He wasn’t supposed to know. 

“The details have always been a little foggy,” May said into the sink. “It was some kind of robbery, we don’t know if he wanted Ben’s car, or his money, or if he was just in the wrong place… but a man took him from us, for too small of a reason.” She looked up at Steve, standing with a handful of dirty plates. “Peter was supposed to be with him, you know. He was late. I’ve never been so grateful, I could have lost both of them! Both of them!”

“But you didn’t, and Peter is going to be fine,” Steve said firmly. “He’s going to be fine.” He’d make sure of it.

“This internship, and the scholarship,” May said brightening, “It’s going to change everything for Peter. Everything. I never knew how I was going to manage college, alone, without Ben. I didn’t want him to have to struggle like Ben and I did. I worked all through Ben’s engineering degree, it was so hard. Neither of us wanted that for Peter. And worse would be a bunch of debt hanging over his head!”  

She loaded the dishes into the washer with care, “I always knew Peter would get some kind of scholarship, he’s so smart! I don’t know where it comes from. Ben was smart, and Richard… but not like Peter is. But I didn’t know if it would be enough to get him into a school he really wanted to go to.”

“He’ll be able to go wherever he wants now, thanks to Stark,” Steve said. “Gosh, I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like if someone had done that for me when I was Peter’s age. I might’ve had a chance to finish.”

“You didn’t finish college?” May asked, surprised. “Would you help me carry out the dessert plates? I made a pie.”

“Sure. Oh, apple?” Steve quirked a little smile, he liked pie well enough but he’d never had so much apple pie as he’d had in the past half year. Everyone kept assuming that Captain America’s favorite dessert has to be apple pie. Steve shrugged, going back to the previous conversation.

“I was an art student,” he explained as he picked up the plates and silverware. “Materials and classes were expensive, and then the War…”

“The War interrupted everything,” May nodded, following him with the pie, some ice cream and napkins. 

“For some more than others,” Steve said thinking of how much had been interrupted.

“I can’t imagine,” May said, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “I had an older brother, a soldier. I remember us getting a letter that he’d gone missing and was presumed lost,” she patted him, “he wasn’t. It was a mistake, but it was a horrible couple of weeks, not knowing. I can’t imagine what your family-“

“There wasn’t any,” Steve said with a tight smile. “Pop died in the Great War, and Ma was a TB nurse… it got her and didn’t let go. They were gone long before I enlisted. My best friend… he was lost on mission, just before-” He shook his head. “There was a girl, but… that was a long time ago.”

“Not for you,” May said, eyes rimmed with moisture. “Or for me. For us, it was just about the same time wasn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am, I think it was,” Steve said, throat closing up. Oh, no, he wasn’t going to  _cry_ in Peter’s dining room! Romanov had cameras in here!

“Do you have anyone to talk to?” May asked. “It was very hard for me at first, I have my friend Anna… but I was afraid of leaning on that friendship too hard.” She turned and dug into a drawer. “I found this group-” She pulled out a flyer. “It’s helped so much, just having somewhere to unload, with people who understand.”

He took the flyer and glanced at it. Survivor’s group it called itself, a meeting for people who had lost loved ones. Group Grief counseling.

_They have a meeting for everything these days,_ he thought. “I don’t-” he started to hand back the flyer.

“Keep it,” May said pushing his hand back towards him. “Think about it. If not this group, than another. Just find someone,” she looked up at him. “If you need to, you can call me.”

“Oh, that-” Steve started to blush. How bad was he at schooling his emotions that it was so obvious that he was lonely? “I, uh-” He gave up. “Thank you.” He folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket. “Thank you, ” he repeated.

“Oh, _pie!”_ Stark said loudly from the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Pete! There’s pie!” Steve was pretty sure he’d heard part or all of their conversation, and was shouting now to give Steve time to compose himself.

“I know!” Peter called from the hallway to the basement, just below the stairs to the upstairs. “She made it earlier and it smelled  _so good_. Aunt May’s pies are the best.”

“You should see the setup he has down there. It’s pretty great for a shoe-string lab. He’s even got a little darkroom set up down there,” Stark said. 

“Really?” Steve said as Peter popped up behind Stark. “I always wanted to try photography, but I couldn’t afford a camera.”

“Would you like to see?” Peter asked shyly. “I’ve got some of my prints up.”

“Sure,” Steve said easily. “Pie first or after?”

“Pie first!” Peter said pushing past Stark and grabbing plate from the table. “With ice cream, please, Aunt May.”

“Guests first,” May admonished. “Would you like a slice, Tony?”

“Yes, please, a big one,” Stark said gesturing to half the pie, “That should be good.”

Catching on to his antics, May just rolled her eyes and cut him a slightly larger than reasonable slice. “Ice cream?”

“Of course,” Stark said and barely waited for the dollop of vanilla to hit his plate before he was hooking a leg in a chair leg and plopping down to eat.

Steve accepted a slightly larger slice and a bigger scoop of ice cream happily. He’d had a lot of apple pie recently, but it wasn’t as if he _didn’t_ like it. Peter got a slightly smaller slice which he pouted about until May gave him a larger scoop of ice cream than either of the other men had gotten. She finished off with a small slice for herself and just a taste of ice cream.

Dessert was something to be savored. Or at least that had always been Steve’s opinions. Dessert had been one of the sacrifices of war, what with the sugar rationing. It still felt like a luxury to him, even after six months back.

Peter seemed to think that his pie might escape if he didn’t get as much of it into his face as possible. 

“Peter, slow down,” May scolded, breaking of prim little bites.

“But it’s so good,” Peter moaned around a mouthful.

Stark’s pie was disappearing as fast as Peter’s, but in a slightly more polite manner. “You look like a chipmunk, Bambi.”

“Stop it!” Peter said, pointing a finger at Stark. “That’s not a thing! Stop trying to make it a thing!”

“What ever you say, Bambi,” Stark grins around the last bite of his pie. He glanced at Steve’s half eaten pie. “Jesus, Cap, get cracking or I’m going to steal that!”

“Excuse me,” Steve apologized, “if I like to actually taste my food.” He took a small, delicate bite. “And I’d like to see you try, Stark.”

“Stealing Captain America’s pie?” Peter said shaking his head and scraping the last crumbs from his plate. “You’re crazy Mr. Stark.”

“You aren’t the first to say so,” Stark shrugged. His phone buzzed and chirped and he bit back a curse. “I’m sorry, I told them to hold my calls unless it was an emergency-” He took out his little pane of glass.

“Emergency?” Steve asked, half rising. 

“Business thing,” Stark waved him off. “I have a different ringtone for _those_ kinds of emergencies. Stark!” He barked into his phone, as he paced into the other room. “This better be good!”

“You… you wanted to see my prints?” Peter asked, setting his empty plate down.

Steve smiles, “Yeah, I’d like that…May?” He gestured to the dishes.

“You go on,” May waved. “I’ve got these.”

“This way,” Peter said, and lead him downstairs. Steve had to duck, the ceiling was low. “Sorry, it gets taller just past the door.”

It opened up into a long narrow room. In the middle was a table, more a workbench, filled with odds and ends equipment. A microscope, which looked modified, though Steve couldn’t even imagine what it’s been modified for, sat in the middle. There were prosaic tools like hammers and screwdrivers and bits of wire everywhere and there are things that Steve can’t even guess at that remind him of Tony’s lab. But along one wall were strings of clothesline and pins holding up prints. Steve made a beeline for them.

“I do more digital stuff these days,” Peter said. “It’s easier and cheaper. But I like the feel of regular film.”

Steve bends over and examines them. They’re rough, and obviously untutored. The boy knows nothing about composition or framing. They are mostly city-scapes, pictures of trains coming in to station, random crowds and signs. But there are some people too: a picture of May, a group of posing students, some sneaky photos of Liz Allan.

“What do you think?”

“Interesting,” Steve said and he felt more than saw the boy crumple in on himself, because “interesting” tended to be what people who couldn’t say “boring” to your face come up with when looking at your art. “No, I mean it,” he said hastily.

“This here, I can see what you were going for,” he pointed to a photograph of some buildings against a white sky. “The black contrast against the white, but the composition distracts from it because of this stop sign. The shape and the color makes it harder to see.” He held up big hands in a square so you can only see the buildings. “See how the buildings look darker?”

“Hey, yeah,” Peter crowded closer, bumping up next to him.

“You center your shot too much,” Steve said looking over the photos as a whole. 

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

“Got a piece of paper?” Steve asked, “And a pen? It’s easier to show.”

Peter scrambles and finds a tattered notebook and a pen. Steve drew a couple quick rectangles, and then divided them into grids. “A person’s eye tends to look over a photo or drawing like this.” He drew an arrow that went from left to right and across in a z shape. He shaded in the middle square. “If you just put the important thing there, people won’t really see it. You need to lead them to it.”

He pointed at one photo, “See here, you’ve done it. The yellow of the caution sign catches the eye down here, then the line the edge of the building makes here draws it up. Then you’ve got the clothes line to draw it over, and over again, and the red shirt just off center. It leads the eye right back down again,” he hovered his finger over the caution sign. “Do you see it now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter nodded. “Cool.”

Steve held up the piece of paper to another. “See here, if you cropped it, the streamers would give a similar effect?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “That’s so weird. It looks so different.”

“It’s pretty basic composition,” Steve said, trying not to sound proud. “Have you taken any art classes?”

“No, I haven’t had time,” Peter blew out a frustrated raspberry, looking at his photos. “Between my college credits, and regular school work, and… and…”

_Spider-man_ , Steve’s brain supplies.

“Odd jobs,” Peter finally managed, and Steve supposed that fit well enough, “there just isn’t time. I am in the newspaper club, though, as the photographer. Sometimes Mr. Matthias shows me some stuff.”

Steve flipped through the notebook as he listened. There were mostly pages of equations, and some diagrams. He was distracted by a flash of color. “You draw too?” He asked, opening to a page of splashy red, blue and black.

Peter snatched the notebook out of Steve’s hand. “Oh, that, no, that’s um… you know, it’s like, um, it’s just, it’s not, no, uh, uh, no-“

“Are you a fan of Spider-man?” Steve asked, giving him a reasonable out. 

“Yeah!” Peter yelped, his voice breaking, keeping the notebook against his back. “I’m… I’m that…yeah, a  _fan._ ”

“Do you know much about him?” Steve asked, settling against the workbench. Barton’s voice was whispering in the back of his mind not to press too hard. “I’ve met him, twice, but I don’t know what to make of him.”

Peter looked down at his feet and toed against the concrete. “No?” He asked more than stated. “Not really?” He swallows. “What don’t you understand about him? He’s… he’s a superhero, like you. Kinda? I think he just wants to help. Yeah,” he looked up, “help.”

“He did help us out the other day,” Steve admitted. “Left before we had a chance to thank him, which was kind of strange.”

“Maybe he was scared,” suggested Peter, rocking back and forth slightly. “I mean, you guys are the _Avengers,_ Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Saviors of New York, Captain Mother-hugging America and his buddy, Iron Man. You can be a little intimidating. And the guy with the bow is psychotic -“

Peter seemed to suddenly realize that he was saying too much, because Peter Parker had no reason to know anything about Clint Barton other than the fluff that had been in the papers. He certainly wouldn’t know that Barton chased Spider-man around on a regular basis, or that he’d hit him with an arrow the last time they’d met.

“Mother-hugging?” Steve asked with a quirked brow, again giving him an out.

“Aunt May doesn’t like me to swear,” Peter’s cheeks were red.

“Sensible woman,” Steve acknowledged.

“Hey, Cap?” Stark yelled down, “I’ve got to get back to the Tower. There’s a mess in the French office that I’ve got to deal with. You want to stay and I can send Happy back for you?”

Steve looked at his watch. “No, it’s getting late. I’ll come with you,” he called back. “Thanks for showing me your photos, Peter.” He held out a hand to shake.

Peter straightened from his slump as he took his hand. “No problem, Mr. Rogers, thanks for the advice.”

“Next time you’re at the Tower, stop by my floor,” Steve offered on impulse. “I’ve got a few art books that can give you more information.”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes widened, and his hand tightened before releasing. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Steve quirked his head. “Why would I?”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Uh, duh! You’re Captain “Mother-hugging” America! You might have better things to do than lend books to puny Peter Parker.”

“First,” Steve held up a finger, “you’re not that puny. I was way smaller than you at your age. Second, I really don’t have anything better to do. I spend most my days in the gym, and that can get pretty old. I’d enjoy the company.”

“Great, yeah, okay,” Peter gave a half smile. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but Steve hoped he’d take him up on his offer.

“Cap?” Stark called. “Happy’s here.”

“Coming,” Steve called back. “See you soon, Peter.”

“See you, Mr. Rogers,” Peter brought his notebook from behind his chest and hugged it tight. “Later, Mr. Stark!” Peter yelled up the stairs as Steve walked up.

“Later, Bambi!” Stark yelled back, already in his coat.

“That’s not a thing!” Peter’s voice floated up. “Stop trying to make it a thing!”

“It’s so a thing,” Stark said to May and Steve as he handed Steve his coat. “Thank you again, for a lovely evening,” he said to May.

“It was my pleasure,” May said, holding the door. “Perhaps we can do it again.”

“My place next time,” Stark suggested. “I’ll put Pepper on it.” He stepped out and trotted next to Happy.

“Thank you, May,” Steve said. “For everything.” He patted his pocket.

“Goodnight, boys,” May smiled. “Thank you for taking care of Peter,” she added as Steve followed Stark to the car.

“Thanks for trusting us with him,” Steve said back, wishing she knew how much had hinged on her decision. 

“Am I driving, Boss?” Happy asked, standing by the door. 

“Yep, I’m too full to drive,” Stark said patting his stomach. “Christ, I can’t believe the mess they’ve gotten themselves into,” he said staring at his phone as he slid in the door Happy opened for him.

“Anything serious?” Steve asked, mostly to be polite. He honestly didn’t know the scope and breadth of all the pies Stark had fingers in. So there was little likelihood that he would understand the problem or be able to offer any tangible advice.

“It wouldn’t have been such a problem if they’d just told me there was an issue a month back,” Stark said, waving a hand. “Now it’s an emergency that has to be handled now, tonight, or we end up reneging on a major contract.” He scrolled with his fingers over the screen. “With, _fuck,_ possible government sanctions at stake.” He frowned, “I’m going to have to call in Pepper, on a Sunday night. She’s going to KILL me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve said. “Is it?”

“No!” Stark said scandalized. He deflated and looked at his phone. “Maybe?” He sighed as he tapped out a message. “If they weren’t so scared of talking to management this wouldn’t have happened. I don’t know how things got that bad over there. Stark Industries doesn’t have these kind of HR problems! I should have been keeping a better eye on them.”

“You can’t be every where,” Steve said. “You’ve had a lot going on here.”

Stark pulled a face. “Yeah, settling in five superheroes into my tower did take a bit of my attention.” He sniffed and suddenly became much more interested in his phone. “Though I guess I’ll only have to worry about four soon.”

“About that-“

“Oh, did you find a place? I knew it would go faster with a realtor.” Stark brought his phone up to his nose. “When’s the move out date? You can take the furniture if you want.”

“Hopefully, uh, never?” Steve said, trying for a little levity. 

Stark shot a glance over at him. “What?”

“I said  _maybe_ , Stark!” Steve burst. “As in, maybe yes or maybe no. And I’m choosing no, I don’t want to move out. Unless you want me to move out?”

“No! I never said that!” Stark huffed. “When did I say that?”

“You just sent me every listing for every property in email and hard copy and sent me an army of real estate agents.” Steve threw up a hand. “How am I supposed to take that?”

“As a joke?” Stark said, eyes wide.

“Ha ha,” Steve looked out the window.

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

“Soooo….” Stark said, because Steve was pretty sure the man couldn’t be silent to save his life. “What made you decide to stay?”

Steve considered giving a flippant answer. “Same reason I moved in,” was on the tip of tongue but he discarded it. “I like my room,” he said softly. “And I’d miss JARVIS.” And he’d miss the small place he was starting to carve for himself among the Avengers. 

“JARVIS?” Stark gave a semi-hysterical giggle.

“I like JARVIS,” Steve said defensively. “We talk a lot.”

“What do you talk about?” Stark reclined against the door of the car and stared raptly at Steve, eyes bright and curious and a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth.

“I ask him questions about…things,” Steve shrugged. “And we discuss them.”

“These…things…” Stark repeated. “Like what?”

Steve tried to remember some of the questions he’d asked JARVIS over the past couple of months and came up blank. He was always talking to him. He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember one. We were talking about painting. Technique. He introduced me to this great teacher, I guess he used to be pretty famous? Used to do a television program. A fella named Bob Ross?”

“Bob Ross?” Stark repeated. “Painter with an afro?” At Steve’s blank look Stark mimed with his hands. “Big hair, like this?”

“Yeah, that’s the fella. I’ve been learning how to paint happy little trees from him.” Steve mimed brush strokes with a hand.

“Happy little trees,” Stark repeated. “Happy little trees!” He burst out laughing. “Happy little trees!”

“It’s something he says a lot,” Steve said, getting a little peeved.

“Can I see?” Stark said, calming suddenly in one of his mercurial mood changes. 

“See?” Steve asked, having trouble following.

“Your paintings,” Stark said. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“I haven’t yet,” Steve answered, scratching an ear in embarrassment. “Not really. I only just got the supplies, and started watching Mr. Ross. I tried pushing around paint on one canvas, but it didn’t come out anything like his.”

“Fine, don’t show me,” Stark said, but there was no rancor in his voice. “Alright, cool. You’re staying, great.” He looked out the window for a minute. “Hey, you know what we should do? Disney movie day! Tomorrow.”

Steve started to protest.

“No, no, no,” Stark steamrolled over him. “It’ll be great. I bet Thor hasn’t seen any of ‘em.” He pulled out his phone. “Hey, JARVIS.”

“Sir?” The phone’s JARVIS was slightly tinny.

“Call everybody, conference call, right now.”

“Of course, sir. Emergency priority?”

“No!” Steve said firmly.

“Party pooper,” Stark shrugged. “Just dial everybody.”

“Tony, if this is about the French situation I’m already on it. How close are you to home?”

“About ten minutes out, Pep, but this isn’t about that. Hold on.”

“Man of Iron, is there a battle brewing?”

“No, Thor, just hold on I want everyone on the line.”

“Is this Captain “Mother-hugging” America and his buddy, Iron Man?” Barton’s voice came on the line. 

“What?” Stark asked. “Where are you?”

“Family room,” Barton replied. “We’re watching the live feed from Parker’s, or we were. Now we’re going over the highlights.”

“Who’s we?” Stark asked as Steve buried his head in his hands.

“Tasha and me,” Barton said. “Bruce is here too, but he’s sleeping.”

“Wake him up,” Stark said.

“Fuck you, no.”

“I promise he won’t Hulk out, just tap him.”

“No.”

“C’mon-“

“Fuck. You.” Barton said firmly. “No.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” Bruce’s voice said in the background. “What’s the problem?”

“Great, everyone’s here,” Stark said eagerly. “Problem: Cap likes Disney, but he missed all the best stuff. Proposed Solution: Disney marathon. Tomorrow, all day.”

“Tony,” Pepper sounded annoyed, “I have work tomorrow.  _You_ have work tomorrow.”

“No, we’re working tonight, probably all night. We’re taking off tomorrow, and watching every Disney movie, the animated ones at least.”

“Sir,” Jarvis said, “There are too many animated features to watch in one day.”

“I mean the real movies,” Stark sighed. “The good ones. Who’s in?”

“Are we counting Pixar?” Bruce asked. “I like Monsters, Inc.”

“Fuck, _yes_ we’re counting Pixar, I’m not passing up Wall-E.”

“Where are we starting,” Natasha asked. “Snow White?”

“Cap’s seen that one, and Dumbo,” Stark said, he put his hand over the receiver, “Did you see any others?”

“I ain’t watching Dumbo,” Barton interrupted before Steve could answer. “I don’t like that one.”

“Because it makes you cry,” Natasha teased. “I vote no Anastasia.”

“Anastasia is a Fox movie, not Disney, so it’s not even on the table,” Stark said. “Jeeze, really.”

“How do you even know that?” Natasha asked. “It’s a children’s movie.”

“Because I’m an American,” Stark said loftily. “We know these things.”

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice was amused. “We-“

“C’mon, Pep, Pepper, Pep,” Tony begged.

“I was going to say we absolutely have to watch the Incredibles,” Pepper said. 

“Oh, god, yes!” Stark crowed. “NO CAPES!”

“Are you proposing a day of entertainment similar to the fest of Potter?” Thor asked. “Are capes banned? I had not planned to wear my battle garb, so this does not limit me, but I do not understand the prohibition against them.”

“You’ll see big guy, you’ll see,” Stark said. He leaned forward over the seat. “Hey, you in Hap?”

“Can we watch Cars, sir?” Happy asked as they pulled into the Tower’s parking garage.

“Of course, both of them,” Stark grinned. “Though, except for the Pixar movies I vote we skip sequels.”

“Yeah, none of that Bambi II or Cinderella II shit. That’s just garbage,” Barton said. “Disney would be spinning in his grave. And by the way, if we don’t get to watch Robin Hood I’m shooting something.”

“We’re here,” Stark said, hopping out when Happy opened the door. “I’ve got to get to work. I’m on my way up, Pep. Bruce, I’m putting you in charge of the playlist for tomorrow, don’t let me down.”

“Why does Bruce get to make the playlist?” Natasha asked. “I’m usually in charge of Movie night.”

“Because he won’t try to put fucking Anastasia on in a Disney Marathon,” Stark snapped. “Christ,” he huffed, “You’d probably shoe-horn Shrek in there or something.”

“Shrek isn’t Disney?” Barton asked.

“Dreamworks!” Stark grabbed at his hair in frustration. “My God!”

Steve followed Stark into the building, jamming his hands in his pockets and feeling bemused as he listened to the conversation.

“Tony, if you want to watch movies tomorrow you have to come work now,” Pepper said.

“I’ll get the list together,” Bruce said through Barton’s phone. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Bruce?” Steve said, surprised to be addressed. For all that the movie day tomorrow was supposed to be about him, everyone seemed mostly concerned with getting their own favorites shown. 

“Does this mean you’re staying in the Tower?”

“Yes,” Steve said leaning forward to speak into Stark’s phone. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face, so thankful that that situation was _over_. He still had to fix things with Barton and Romanov, but he’d worried more about Stark. He lifted his eyes to see Stark looking at him curiously, those dark eyes cataloging his reactions.

“You were leaving?” Pepper asked with a distressed whine. “Why does no one tell me these things? Why were you leaving? Tony, what did you do?” 

“Why is it me?” Stark asked.

“It’s always you,” Pepper said.

“It was just a mis-communication,” Steve said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay, but we’re going to have a conversation about this,” Pepper promised. “Tony get up here,” she said and then she was gone.

“Friend Steve, this is excellent news! I will see you all on the morrow for the Fest of Disney!” Thor said and disconnected.

“Cap, you’re in charge of snacks,” Barton snapped. “It’s your turn. Be warned Bruce can eat his body weight in popcorn and if he runs out, he gets angry.”

“I do not,” Bruce said, “But I do like popcorn.”

“Noted,” Steve said and then looked up at Stark again. “Stark has to get to work, so we’re going to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Steve,” Bruce said. “Goodbye _Tony.”_

“Goodbye, John Boy,” Barton said and cut the line.

“Okay, good, great, plans are being made,” Stark said and frowned at his private elevator, rubbing his hands together waiting for it to open. It finally did and he jumped over the threshold. “See you tomorrow, Cap.”

“Tomorrow, Stark,” Steve said stepping in his own his elevator. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Yeah, Pops,” Stark rolled his eyes, as the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was another chapter that didn’t want to end. I probably could have broken it up into smaller pieces, but it just didn’t feel right. I also had to fight with a few sections to get them to come out right, so it felt like this took longer than it needed to. =/
> 
> While I was fighting, I stumbled across a post requesting a wartime AU Superfamily, and it gave me ideas. Many ideas. So I played around with it a bit while I was mulling it over and have written a few bits for it. It’s different from My Super Family because its coming out more as drabbles and I have a couple written already. Unlike My Super Family, where I have it plotted out where it’s going to go, the wartime story (tentatively titled “What Did You Do in The War?”) is turning out much more freeform and I really don’t know where it’s headed (which means it will be open to suggestion). If you’re interested, I’m going to be tagging it WDYD on Tumblr.=)


	11. Fest Of Disney

Steve woke up heart thumping, breath coming in gasps, fretting about popcorn. JARVIS turned on the lights when he shot up in bed. The linens were soaked with sweat, and his muscles twitching, hands locked into fists. He knew, even in the midst of it, what it was; a stupid panic attack. It was a bizarre reaction to a nightmare he couldn’t remember, his body trapped in a fight or flight response to an imaginary threat. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up this way, his mind laser focused on something trivial like it was the end of the world. It didn’t mean it felt any less like an asthma attack or having his heart stutter with palpitations, just like before the serum. 

“Captain Rogers?” JARVIS asked. “It is four am, shall I start your shower?”

“Popcorn!” Steve replied, his mind still racing around the fact he had to start making popcorn for the marathon today. _I need to make enough for me and Bruce and Thor. Do I have a big enough pot? Multiple pots, maybe? What about the other kitchen-_

“Pardon?”

“No, I mean,” Steve  gave a full bodied shudder and wiped at his face, “Yes, please, to the shower.” He stood and tried to calm his breathing like he’d been taught. He flexed and relaxed his hands, the muscles in his arm, concentrating on the feel of it. The physical effects of the attack were already fading as he fully woke up, but the thoughts wouldn’t go away.

He’d had some mandatory counseling while he was living in his SHIELD quarters, but he’d stopped going once he’d moved into the Tower. The counselor had explained the concept of PTSD and given him the name of some therapists who might be able to “help” him. He didn’t know really what the good it did to talk to some stranger about things that couldn’t be changed. And he hadn’t had an attack like this since before the Battle of New York, so he hadn’t bothered and didn’t even know where the list was. 

He certainly didn’t know why he was having an attack now, of all times! He’d settled things with Stark about moving out. He could stay in his apartment. The movie thing was supposed to be fun.

When he’d gone to bed, Steve had been looking forward to the marathon. Catching up with Disney had sounded great, he’d always loved his cartoons and films. It was nice to hear they’d not only survived but thrived in the 70 years since he’d last walked into a theater. Plus, he’d been so relieved that he wasn’t going to have to leave the Tower he’d probably would have agreed to anything.  But now he just kept thinking about how popcorn probably wouldn’t be enough. He should probably buy other snacks too, and he didn’t even know what anyone liked.

He shivered. He’d also have to face everyone, all together. The last meeting with the team hadn’t gone particularly well. He wasn’t sure what Thor’s current feelings on him were, but the big man was probably disappointed in him. He hadn’t been very together the last time they spoke. He might have made peace with Bruce, but Barton and Romanov couldn’t be feeling too friendly, he’d all but called them freaks to their faces. Barton had seemed angry and Romanov… He groaned, why had he let Stark talk him into spending all day in the Family room with them? 

It was all Stark’s fault. Stark had more or less bullied them all into it, and Steve wasn’t too sure if anyone besides himself really wanted to watch Disney movies. For sure Pepper had better things to do with her time. She ran Stark’s company for him after all, and it was a Monday. People would be looking for her. Plus she’d probably been up all night dealing with the French situation with Stark. Bruce… Bruce was always working on something. He’d probably just agreed to be nice to Steve, but he’d probably rather be working in his lab. Barton had sounded okay with it when he’d put Steve on snack duty, but he was a super spy assassin. Steve was pretty sure he could make a lot of things sound genuine when he wasn’t really feeling them. And who knew what Romanov thought about any of this?

“Popcorn!” His brain reminded him as he tried to get his heart into a normal rhythm.

He glanced again at the clock, he’d lost half an hour to this nonsense. He stepped into the shower, trying to get himself back on routine. He should just go about his regular morning. Stark might have said the marathon was going to be “all day” but Steve was pretty sure he meant when his day usually started, not Steve’s. Stark’s day usually started around eleven, according to JARVIS. 

So there was no need to hop out of bed and try to find a pan big enough to pop enough popcorn to feed himself, Thor and Bruce.  _Stark practically consumes his body weight too_ , his brain whispered,  _when he does actually eat._  

He’d need to make a lot of popcorn. If he used multiple pots, how would he keep it from burning?

He shook the thought away as he toweled off. It was all a little ridiculous, and it shouldn’t be occupying as much of his thoughts as it was. It was throwing off his whole morning! He threw himself back into his routine. He started with a big glass of milk to quell the uneasiness and the morning hunger he woke with. He had a couple of hours at least until he had to figure out how to make enough popcorn for everyone.

He should probably plan other food too. He should think about lunch and dinner. Stark said an all day marathon… So sandwiches? He pondered his choices as he cooked himself a couple of eggs and ate breakfast. He’d done sandwiches already, a couple of times, and a casserole… which went much too quickly. What did one feed a team of superheroes?  Everyone seemed to like hamburgers… But… _gosh,_ how many hamburgers could Thor eat?

“Sir?”

Steve started. He was standing in front of his punching bag, lost in the thoughts tumbling about, breathing as heavily as he would have if he’d been working out. He’d been working himself right into another attack.

“Yeah, JARVIS?” He tried to sound calm, normal. He was pretty sure he failed.

“Is there something amiss with your equipment?” JARVIS’s tone was polite and solicitous. “Captain Rogers, you have been standing motionless for twenty-five minutes.”

Was there a faint note of concern in there? Could AI feel concern, or anything else? He’d like to ask Stark, but Stark had JARVIS with him in some form at all times. If the AI did have feelings Steve didn’t want to hurt them.

“Just thinking,” Steve said and started unwrapping his hands. He’d finished breakfast and sleepwalked to his punching bag, his mind still a muddle of worries. He was all keyed up, but he just wasn’t in the mood to punch at the bag today. He’d go for his run at little early instead.

“JARVIS? Does the other kitchen have more pots than the kitchenette?” He just couldn’t stop thinking about the popcorn.

“I believe is has a proportional amount,” JARVIS replied. “Was there a particular piece of cookware you need?”

“I’ve got to make popcorn later,” Steve answered. “A lot of it.”

“Sir always keeps a large supply of microwavable popcorn available in all employee break rooms,” JARVIS pointed out, and he was sounding amused again. (Or he really was amused?)

Steve wrinkled his nose as he went and grabbed a sweatshirt, wallet and phone. “That stuff tastes wrong,” he complained. “Plus, that’s for the employees.”

“Of course, what was I thinking?” JARVIS said in a tone Steve usually only heard him take with Stark. “There are also theater style popcorn machines in storage in levels seven, twelve, and fifty, reserved for special functions.”

“Wow, really?” Steve asked. “Can we get one moved up to the Family room for today? We got popcorn and oil for them, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve paused and rubbed at his lip. “Uh, think it’s enough to feed me, Thor, Bruce and Stark?”

“I’ll have extra delivered.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve said as he headed for the door. “Hey, what do people eat when they watch movies?”

“In theaters the most commonly bought concessions are popcorn and a variety of candy.”

“And at home? Like…like for a movie night?” 

“Pizza and Chinese delivery seem to be popular staples.”

Judging what little he knew of his teammates eating habits, he was betting they ate out a lot. Thor for certain didn’t cook. Bruce seemed to have discovered quite a few local ethnic restaurants, which meant he probably didn’t cook too often either. Stark seemed to live on those weird milkshake looking things and fast food. He had no idea what Barton and Romanov lived on. He knew Barton liked coffee. Romanov had eaten everything he’d ever brought to their previous Parker Movie nights, so she didn’t seem like a fussy eater.

Steve made a thoughtful noise. “Do Romanov and Barton order out a lot?”

JARVIS didn’t answer immediately. Steve looked up. “JARVIS?”

“What is the purpose of this inquiry, sir?”

“Huh?” Steve responded intelligently. JARVIS had never pushed back like this before.

“Sir made it clear to me last night that the eating habits of others is to be considered private information.”

“Did I get you in trouble?” Steve asked. Apparently Stark hadn’t liked being told to eat his veggies. “I’m sorry. And it’s not private, they’re on my team. Their health is my concern.”

“Is that the purpose of this inquiry?” JARVIS didn’t sound convinced.

Steve tried to say yes. But he couldn’t lie, not to JARVIS. “No. We’re watching movies later and I wanted to make something everyone would like.”

“Perhaps you could ask them?” JARVIS suggested.

“Yeah,” Steve said with no conviction. “Maybe.” He sighed. “I’m going out for a run, will you text me when the others get up?” They hadn’t set a time for when they’d start, so he’d come back when everyone was awake.

“Of course, Sir.”

::0::0::

He had a carefully planned out series of routes to and from the Tower to Central Park. They were meandering courses around and through the neighborhood, down side streets and away from the heaviest traffic. They were in Midtown, there was no way he was going to fool himself it was Brooklyn, much less the Brooklyn he remembered. Not with the Tower shooting up against the skyline as a constant reminder and the never-ending traffic that plagued modern day New York.

But even that was dimmed in the early morning as the city dozed, not quite fully awake at five am. It felt muted and less overwhelming with most of the storefronts closed and just a few weary night clerks on their way home and the occasional corner diner or coffee shop open for business. He could pass the time ignoring the changes and focus on the landmarks he remembered. 

The routes all took him about two hours to run, which usually got him back in time to shave, shower and dress before his morning lessons with Pepper. He assumed those were off this morning, she’d been up with Stark last night after all.

Most days he’d stop somewhere along the way at a grocery store and pick up food for the next day or so. He still wasn’t used to the way food kept in the huge icebox in his kitchen, or rather the thought that food would keep in there. Food usually didn’t last long enough in his kitchen to even think of going bad. His appetite was something he was  _still_  adjusting to. He was no stranger to hunger, even before the Serum. He’d grown up in during the Great Depression, and if there was a worse time to be skinny and sickly he hadn’t heard of it yet. Often the question hadn’t been which to do without food or medicine, but how to survive with neither. After the serum and during the War, hunger had been a constant companion. Standard issue rations hadn’t gone far with a metabolism like his. 

Now he could both afford and had access to as much as he wanted to eat, and it was heavenly. He just had trouble keeping up with the demands his stomach placed on him. Sometimes he wondered how much was true hunger and how much was pure greed and gluttony at being able to eat as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted. It seemed like he was always running out of something, which meant multiple trips to the store, sometimes even in one day. He was already out of milk and eggs, and he wanted to make himself a second breakfast when he got home.

_Is that necessary_ , he wondered,  _or do I just want it?_  It was enough of a moral dilemma that his brain finally stopped poking and prodding about popcorn and snacks, and turned itself to that. He hadn’t answered the question by the time he got to the grocery store he’d picked for today. He had five that he rotated through, so at least he wouldn’t look like a glutton to the people who worked there.

He was getting to know the names of the clerks that worked in the mornings at each, and they were starting to know him. This store had Maddie, a woman in her thirties with two little boys and two jobs. She was friendly and chatty and seemed to think that Steve was some kind of athlete, which he encouraged. He wasn’t deliberately hiding his identity, but it was nice to just be Steve.

“Breaking diet?” Maddie asked when she found him paused in the candy isle, boggling at the choices. “Your coach is going to get mad at you.” She wagged a finger playfully.

“Team’s on R&R today,” Steve said, letting her guess at what kind of team he could be on. “We’re going to watch some movies, and I’m on snack duty.” He brightened as a thought struck him. “Got any suggestions? I don’t really know what everyone likes.” He wouldn’t have to ask Barton or Romanov after all.

“Big team?” Maddie asked. “Any special diets? Vegetarians? Vegans? Peanut or Gluten allergies?”

“Small team, big eaters,” Steve answered truthfully, only understanding half of that. “And no special diets or allergies that I know of.”

“Okay! That makes things easy,” Maddie grinned. “Rule of thumb for parties or gatherings… you want some sweet, some sour and some salty. If it’s a long day, some savory.”

“We’ve got popcorn,” Steve said helpfully. 

“So we need to cover sweet, sour, savory. We can do that. Follow me, Steve.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Steve nodded and let her fill his basket with something that looked distressingly like bags of neon worms, and a couple colorful bags of candy. Some of which he even recognized! Raisinettes!  He grabbed a whole bunch of those. She also talked him into a few boxes of small eggrolls and something called “Pizza Bites.”

“That should do you, Steve,” Maddie grinned.

Steve smiled back after he’d checked out. “Thanks, Maddie! Take care of those boys.”

He hadn’t even gotten out of the store when his phone started playing music. He nearly dropped his bags in shock. He’d only gotten test calls from Pepper and Thor before. He fumbled for it, standing along the edge of a building and putting his bags at his feet.

“Hello?”

“Cap!” Stark’s overly bright voice rang through the line. “That’s traffic I hear,” he said and his voice went peeved. “You’re not in the building, where are you?”

“What are you doing up?” Steve asked, glancing at his wrist. He’d forgotten to put a watch on, but he knew it couldn’t be even seven am yet. “You don’t get up this early.”

“How do you know?” Stark shot back.

“JARVIS,” Steve replied, “And Pepper.”

“Security breech,” Stark gasped with mock horror. “Quit using my AI and girlfriend to stalk me. This obsession is getting seriously creepy, Creeper.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Says the man who keeps track of my diet and my sleeping habits. Creepy!”

“Is there a reason you called?” Steve said, trying to keep his tone even. “You’re the one who’s calling because I left your little clubhouse.”

“About that, where are you? It’s movie time!” 

“Already?” Steve asked, baffled. “Is everyone up?”

“JARVIS is getting them up,” Stark sounded smug. “Be back in an hour. Pepper’s having breakfast delivered.”

“Have you even slept? Has Miss Potts?”

“Couple hours.” Steve could hear the shrug in the answer. “Enough. Why are we still talking? Do you need a ride? Happy’s up. JARVIS, get the Captain’s coordinates-“

“That’s not necessary,” Steve said quickly. “Do you think maybe we should put this off? Don’t you think you should get more rest-“

“Are you weaseling out of the fun? Again? Is fun your kryptonite? What, is one of your superpowers being a super drag? Or is that original Steve Rogers peeking through?”

“What if there was an emergency, Stark? Would you be safe to fly the Suit?” Steve started to feel a burn of anger instead of annoyance. “Be reasonable.” 

“Oh my god,” Steve could  _hear_ the eyeroll over the phone. “I’m not sleeping either way. At least this way I’ll be relaxing. Do you really want me to work in the lab instead? Things blow up there, you’ve seen it.”

“Stark,” Steve sighed. “Those are not the only two options.”

“The only ones I’m exploring today,” Stark said nonchalantly. “Come on, Red, White and Boring, don’t rain on everyone’s parade.” He paused and the next line sounded a bit more sincere. “Thor’s already in the Family room, he’s waiting.”

Steve closed his eyes and leaned back against the building with a huff. He glanced at his bags, “Fine, but only because I’ve already bought snacks.”

“Good,” Stark sounded surprised. “Great. See you there. Did you get M&Ms?”

“And raisinettes,” Steve mumbled, a little embarrassed at the little leap of pleasure he got in confirming he’d made at least one right choice.

“Eew, there are raisins in those. Those are practically healthy! Why would you bring health food into this?”

“So don’t eat any,” Steve frowned. “I like raisinettes.”

“Weirdo,” Stark muttered. “Bringing health food to a perfectly good movie marathon.”

“Chocolate covered raisins are not health food.”

“Whatever,” Stark huffed. “Quit stalling and just get back here. We’re waiting on you.” He cut the line before Steve could respond.

Steve swallowed a lump of nervousness and picked up his bags. He’d better get back.

::0::0::

It turned out that even skipping sequels, the much debated “Pixar” movies, and the ones Stark didn’t consider “real movies” there were too many Disney movies to watch in one day.

“Bullshit!” Stark snapped at Bruce, who stood in front of the large screen of the Family room. “No way!”

“Tony,” Bruce adjusted his glasses, and peered down at the tablet in his hand as if to double check, “there are over fifty films, not even counting Pixar.”

“Well, we can skip the ones that Cap’s seen,” Stark waved a hand to Steve who was finishing filling bowls with the candies. Barton was starting up the popcorn machine, and there were donuts and bagels from Pepper for breakfast. She’d given the eggrolls and pizza bites to a bemused Stark employee to bring back later in the day.

“That would only cut out about five-“

“I think Thor would like Fantasia,” Steve added. Stark sent him a glare. “Fantasia’s my favorite,” he said defensively as he settled into his seat. Thor and he had the center couch, as guests of honor.

“So far,” Stark pointed out with a finger jab.

“I thought we should start at the beginning,” Bruce agreed before it could devolve into fight. “Since Thor hasn’t seen any of them.” Thor grinned at this, and nudged Steve. He handed Thor a bowl of mixed candies, chocolate and the worms. “I do suggest we skip the package films, like Make Mine Music and The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, I don’t think most people really consider those real “movies.” That would cut out five-“

“Which makes ten that we could cut-“

“Which still leaves us with over 40 movies,” Bruce said. “Last time I checked there were still only 24 hours in a day, Tony. And that’s still not counting Pixar.”

“We’re not cutting Pixar!” Tony folded his arms against his chest. “Christ, what would be the point?”

“So what’s the proposed solution?” Steve asked, and it came out sounding more like Captain America than he meant it to.

“We’re going to have to break it up,” Bruce spread his fingers. “I think we can get up to at least Sleeping Beauty today, maybe One Hundred and One Dalmatians.”

“No Robin Hood?” Barton huffed from the popcorn machine. “Laaame!”

“Can you be any more stereotypical?” Romanov asked from her perch in the back of the room, on Barton’s favorite couch.

“Shut up, Anastasia,” Barton said, but sat next to her. “I still don’t want to watch Dumbo either.”

“I love Dumbo!” Pepper protested.

“The films of the storyteller Disney seem to hold a place of great esteem and contention with our comrades,” Thor said conversationally to Steve as he chewed on one of the neon worms. “It seems a most important rite of passage, the choosing of a favorite. I am most glad to have an opportunity to participate in this ritual.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a ritual,” Steve shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. That made it sound practically pagan. “I just wanted to watch some movies.”

“We’re starting with Snow White,” Bruce said firmly, in a tone that suggested they really shouldn’t test his good will any further. “And we’ll go until we get tired, we can pick up tomorrow night after Peter leaves.”

“So no Cars?” Happy asked looking put out.

“Not today,” Pepper patted his shoulder, “Want us to call you when we get to that point?”

“Yeah,” Happy said and stood up. “I was supposed to do some maintenance today, I think I’m gonna go back to it.”

“Aw, Hap,” Stark whined. “We never get to hang out anymore.”

“Yeah, we don’t get to drive around as much now you live in your headquarters, Boss,” Happy said pausing at the door. “Maybe you should plan a trip to DC again or something.”

“Or something,” Stark sniffed. His face lit up, “Oh! I know, we should buy some more cars! We need,” He looked around the room, “four… five? Thor, can you drive?” He leaned over the couch back from his seat behind them one row up.

“My Lady Jane has begun instructing me on the use of her mechanical chariot!” Thor said brightly, then frowned. “Though she has informed me I may not drive elsewhere until I receive permission from your government.”

“So maybe,” Pepper said in a way that meant definitely, “you should wait to buy Thor a car until he actually has a license.” 

“I don’t like to drive,” Bruce shook his head, “especially not in New York. I also have a problem, um, getting insurance.”

Stark waved a hand, “That’s okay, Happy can drive you guys around in your cars. C’mon Bruce, how ‘bout a Jag? You like my Jag!”

“Doesn’t a sports car go against your clean energy image?” Bruce asked with a twinkle of amusement in the set of his shoulders and the twist of his fingers.

“A Prius then,” Stark shrugged.

“I like your Jag!” Barton said waving a hand. “I like it plenty.”

“I like VW Bugs,” Romanov said. Everyone turned to look at her. She shrugged, “They’re cute.”

“I don’t judge car-love, sometimes it’s just not rational,” Stark grinned. “But we’ve got to go with a classic Bug, not one of those new yuppie bait cars. Okay, so a Prius for Bruce, a Jaguar for Clint, a Bug for Natasha. We’ll get you a SUV,” he said to Thor, slapping him on the arm, “or maybe a Hummer… but I’ll build you a better engine, none of that 14 miles per gallon shit.” He looked back at Pepper, “Make a note of that, a clean energy SUV… that’ll be huge!” He leaned forward again and looked over at Steve, “What about you, Cap? I’m thinking something American made? Oh, oh, maybe we can find a classic muscle car to restore-“ 

“I don’t need a car, Stark,” Steve said horrified at the thought he would just toss that kind of money around on a whim. He didn’t even have a license to drive a car. “I have my bike.”

“I’ll buy you a better bike,” Stark said expansively. “Something  _new,_  don’t you get tired of vintage everything?

“I don’t want another bike,” Steve said sharply. That was pretty rich for someone who’d given him floor furnished in vintage, well, everything. “I’m fine with what I have.” Besides, it was _his_ bike! It was even slicker than the one Stark Sr had made for him to drive in the Army. He wasn’t going to let Stark Jr push him off it when he’d hardly had a chance to really ride it. 

“You’re no fun,” Stark pouted, and dismissed him, leaning back with a huff and facing Pepper. “What about you, Pep? You’ve got to be bored of that sedan by now.”

“I haven’t had it a year,” Pepper’s voice was amused, barely looking up from her phone. “Why don’t you just repaint it? I like gold.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stark looked over at Happy. “We’ll go shopping, maybe find a new detail shop.”

“Sounds good, Boss,” Happy said cheerfully. “That sounds like fun.” He waved at the room as he left.

“Okay, let’s do this thing,” Stark said. “Snow White, go.” Pepper kept tapping at the screen held between her fingers.

“Heigh-ho,” Barton grumbled. Romanov cast him an annoyed look but sighed herself as she settled back.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. No one really seemed like they really wanted to be here besides Stark and Thor. “We don’t have to do this,” he blurted, and everyone turned to stare at him. 

“Thor and I can watch the early ones,” Steve said gesturing to the two of them, “some other time. Why don’t you just put on your favorites?”

“That’s not how it works,” Stark said, leaning forward again. “You have to start at the beginning. You can’t go backwards, then it just looks like the movies are getting crappier and crappier!” He grabbed a handful of candies from the bowl between Steve and Thor. “Jeeze.”

Steve was about to point out that Stark had wanted to skip the first ten movies, but Barton spoke up from the back.

“Yeah, Cap,” Barton said, “jumping around would be weird.”

“There is a right way to do things,” Natasha said, and then quoted, “Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop.”

“Hey, that’s _Alice,”_ Steve blinked, distracted.

Everyone was always making references to things he couldn’t know about, the stuff he missed in the ice. He let them brush past him or tried to. They were minor annoyances, he could usually get the general meeting from context. But when someone mentioned something he knew, it hit him like a smack to the face. It stopped him dead, and made his skin feel tight like a drum.

He wondered if Romanov knew that and decided instantly that she probably did.

“Alice?” Thor asked.

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” Steve explained. “I read it when I was a kid. It’s a book-“

“And a Disney movie,” Bruce said, fiddling with the remote. “Number seven on our list.”

“We’re not going to get to One Hundred and One Dalmatians if we don’t start soon,” Stark whined. 

“Yes! Of course.” Thor pumped his fist into the air. “Let the Fest of Disney begin!”

::0::0::

 

 

After each movie, Thor declared that he believed this one to be his favorite. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the man’s enthusiasm. He even shared his raisinettes with the demi-god.

 

Stark made it through Snow White, Pinocchio and halfway through Fantasia. With each movie he’d slumped more on his couch and leaned more into Pepper. Finally he’d given up any pretense and placed his head into her lap and reclined full out, angling awkwardly to look at the screen through the isle.

 

Soon he wasn’t even doing that. They took a break to order pizza, and when the lights came up it was obvious that Stark was dead to the world.

  
“I forgot how beautiful Fantasia was,” Bruce sighed. “I’d completely forgotten about the Ave Maria part of the Night on Bald mountain, and Rite of Spring. I can see why you like it, Steve.”

 

“Yeah, but damn,” Barton said wheeling an arm in a stretch and tossing away a plate of empty Pizza bites. Those hadn’t lasted long. “I forgot how freaky some of the early stuff was. That donkey thing in Pinocchio is pretty scarring. I can’t believe they show that to kids.”

 

“Just don’t make a jackass of yourself and you’ll be fine,” Romanov sauntered over to Pepper. “Though that may be beyond you. Should I order for him?” She asked Pepper. “What does he like on his pizza?”

 

“Anything but anchovies or olives,” Pepper smiled. “Thanks, Nat.”

 

Romanov nodded and pulled out her phone, dialing up a pizza place. He heard her ordering four of everything, and he supposed they could order more later if that wasn’t enough. He glanced at Bruce, who was trying to explain how animation worked to Thor.

 

“How late was he up last night?” Steve asked Pepper as he stretched. He checked the candy bowls, and refilled where necessary. It looked like Maddie had steered him right.

 

“We wrapped about four,” Pepper yawned, half her attention on her phone. Steve noted both the word ‘we’ and that she hadn’t said when they’d actually slept.

 

“But he solved the problem?” Steve asked.

 

Pepper ran long nails through Stark’s wild shock of hair and looked fondly at the man in her lap. “Of course,” she said with a slight yawn. Her phone vibrated and she frowned at something on the screen.

 

“We could do this another day,” Steve suggested. “You have to be exhausted.”

 

Pepper gave Steve a sardonic smile, putting away her phone. “Steve, are you trying to get rid of me?”

 

“No, of course not!” Steve insisted. “But aren’t you tired?”

 

“Yes,” Pepper said, “That’s why I’m having a relaxing day with friends instead of the busy day I had originally planned.” She quirked her head to the side. “What was Bruce saying last night about you leaving the Tower?”

 

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Steve said. “Stark thought I wanted to move out, and tried to, uh, help.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Pepper said and held his eyes. “There is more to it than that, I think.”

 

Steve did guileless really well. It was a special talent cultivated in his misspent youth. He’d perfected the sweet, innocent Rogers look when he was a kid always three steps behind Bucky’s mischief. Bucky used speed to get away; Steve had a killer innocent, hurt puppy look that got him off the hook nearly as often. He tried to keep it under wraps usually, especially as he wasn’t sure it really fit on his new Captain America frame, but sometimes desperation hit and you worked with what you had.

 

“What do you mean?” Steve asked and gave her the _look._ The _look_ wasmade of equal parts kicked puppy and vulnerable baby deer. It was the look that had made the corner grocer give him and his mother an extra week to pay back their bill when things were tough, and the one that had the woman at the ladle at the soup kitchen pouring just a little more in his bowl. He used it only as necessary.

 

Pepper blinked rapidly, having trouble focusing. “I just, um,-” she shook her head a little, as if to clear it, “I was just concerned, I mean-” She tried to keep Steve’s eyes, but he kept up the _look_ and she folded like a cheap suit. “I’m glad it worked out,” she said in a rush, looking down, bright slashes of color on her pale cheeks. 

 

“Thanks Pepper,” Steve said honestly, and let up on the _look._ He knew she was just concerned and trying to help. But he didn’t need her worrying about him with everything she had on her plate. He and Stark had settled the whole moving out thing, so he’d prefer to just let it lie. It was enough that they’d cleared up the misunderstanding. They weren’t best friends or anything, but he could tolerate Stark in small enough doses. That was enough. He could live with that. 

 

Pepper nodded and looked to the side, “Everything set, Nat?”

 

“Pizza should be here in ten.” The corner of Romanov’s lips curled up into a smile as she perched lightly on the back of the couch. She was easier around Pepper, more relaxed. “You should close your eyes for a few minutes.”

 

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” Pepper gave a sleepy half smile, her eyes already drooping closed. “I want to see Dumbo.”

 

“I’ll make sure you see it,” Romanov smiled. She looked up at Steve once Pepper was asleep, mouth unfurling into a flat line. “That was interesting.”

 

“What was?” Steve asked.

 

“That little maneuver,” she twirled a finger between Pepper and Steve. “Did that come natural?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said and went for innocent, knowing it was a long shot.

 

“Yeah,” Romanov drawled, tilting her head. “Alright, we’ll play it like that.”

 

He almost said “play it like what?” But decided not to press his luck.

 

“So you decided to stay,” Romanov said, not asking a question. “Your file did say you never knew when to run.”

 

“If you start-” Steve began but she interrupted him.

 

“You never stop.” Romanov’s eyes narrowed and flicked up his frame. Steve could never get a bead on her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have expressions. She might looked politely amused most of the time, but she had a range of sardonic twists of the mouth that had a million meanings. He was just never sure what was genuine with her. “Are you sure you aren’t running by not leaving? I thought you wanted to face this brave, new world.”

 

“I read that you know,” Steve said, unable to stop himself. “ _Brave, New World_ was out before, back when I was a kid.” He was positive Romanov was throwing out references just to pull his strings. He frowned. “It’s not at all like my situation. I’m not exactly John the Savage; I’m not hiding in a lighthouse whipping myself.”

 

“Aren’t you?” Romanov looked only faintly curious, then changed the subject with a toss of her hair. “Are you going to the Art-Jam the week after next?”

 

“Is that when it’s meeting next?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t memorized the schedule. “I hadn’t really thought about it.” Much. Okay, maybe he had thought about it a little. Alright, pretty much every time he passed the flyer tacked to his fridge the thought crossed his mind. Unfortunately it was followed by the thought of being spied on as he awkwardly tried to mingle with normal folks.

 

When he didn’t respond further, she sighed.  She slid down from the back of the couch to the arm, scooting a little closer. “I thought you didn’t run away from things,” she looked up at him through her lashes.

 

“So I don’t get it,” Steve said getting frustrated by this circular conversation. “Are you disappointed that I’m not moving out?”

 

“Would you be disappointed if I was?” Romanov countered, lounging back against the arm, Pepper and Tony sleeping obliviously a hands breath away.

 

“Yes,” Steve blurted. “Christ,” he swore with a blush, “We’re supposed to be teammates. It’s be nice if we could tolerate each other.”

 

“Hey, Tash,” Barton called from the doorway. “Pizza’s here!”

 

“I tolerate you just fine,” Romanov said pushing herself up in one smooth move. “Wake up Pepper and Tony. I doubt he’s had anything but coffee.” She twirled away to help Barton with the mountain of pizza boxes being brought in by some very impressed Tower staff.

 

“Me?” Steve said and looked at the snuggling pair on the couch in front of him. 

 

“Um, Pepper?” He said and reached out. If he woke her, she’d get Stark up. He barely tapped her and her eyes flew open.

 

“Pizza?” She asked, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

 

“It’s here. Can you wake Stark?”

 

“I can try,” she said with a wry smile. She started to run her fingers through his hair again. “Tony-“ 

 

“Fair Darcy, companion to my Lady Jane, is most fond of this delicacy,” Thor boomed, his excitement bringing him up to god-level decibels. “She calls it ‘The Hawaiian.’ Have you tried it, Captain?” The large man thrust a slice in Steve’s direction, it looked like half the pie was already found it’s way into Thor’s mouth.

 

“What!?” Stark flew up from Pepper’s lap. “Huh! What?” He scrambled back onto the couch, defensively covering the arc reactor. “What?”

 

“Pizza,” Steve said stupidly holding the plate from Thor and watching Stark pant on the couch in a panic. “Food.”

 

“What? Oh,” Stark took a deep breath and gripped his hair, making it impossibly wilder. He sat normally on the couch and took a couple of deep breaths.

 

Steve slid his eyes over to Pepper, her attention was on Stark but he noticed she didn’t reach out to touch him. This was familiar to Steve, through his own experiences and with the Commandos. Shellshock, PTSD, whatever they called it now. You don’t startle soldiers awake, especially not ones who’ve had a bad war.

 

“What would you like, Pepper?” Steve asked to give Stark a few more minutes to recover. Normalcy would work best, pulling him back to the now instead of the then.

 

“Is there roasted veggie?” Pepper smiled sweetly at him. She could tell what he was doing an approved.

 

“Romanov ordered four of everything,” Steve smiled, and everything had been a lot more varieties that he thought existed, “As long as Thor or Bruce haven’t gotten to it yet-“

 

“Hey!” Bruce protested around a mouthful of something that looked suspiciously like a roasted veggie pizza slice. “I wouldn’t have eaten it all.”

 

“Just most of it,” Barton quipped, snaking around Bruce and snagging two slices from the box he stood over. He slapped them on a plate and passed them to Romanov. “Better get while the getting is good.” She passed it to Thor, who passed it to Steve.

 

“Here you go,” Steve said, his lips twitching at the unconscious teamwork.

 

“Thanks,” Pepper grinned.

 

“How about you, Stark?” Steve asked, turning to the man. Stark had calmed himself enough that his color was back. Steve politely didn’t look at his shaking hands, he probably wasn’t up to standing and choosing his own.

 

“Nah, just some more coffee-” Stark said with a sigh, leaning back against the couch with feigned calm.

 

“You need to eat,” Steve said and walked over to the boxes. Pizza had sure changed a lot from the taste he’d gotten when he was in Italy. He set his slice to the side and rubbed his hand together. “You don’t eat enough.”

 

“Captain Creeper,” Stark huffed with none of his usual venom.

 

Steve shrugged it off and snagged a bottle of water as he looked over the boxes. Something with protein… He grabbed a slice of something that looked like sausage, and another that looked like chicken and bacon. Something green…it looked like spinach on that pizza. He grabbed two slices of that.

 

“Here,” he said thrusting the plate and bottle into Stark’s hands. “Eat.” Water and food would settle him some.

 

“I’m not-” Stark started to protest, but then the smell hit him and his stomach let out a loud growl. “Oh, shut up,” he said, grabbing it from Steve.

 

“What about you?” Bruce asked, taking another couple of slices on his plate. “Aren’t you hungry?”

 

Steve glanced around, everyone had at least a couple of slices on a plate. Thor had appropriated two whole pies for himself.

 

“Always,” he grinned and walked back over. He peeked in boxes to see what the “everything” Romanov had bought really was. Sitting next to Thor it wouldn’t look too strange if he took one of each. Context was everything. He piled a plate up, and then a second. He wondered if he could juggle a bottle of Coke too? 

 

“Want me to get that for you?” Bruce asked picking up the bottle he was eyeing. 

 

“Thanks,” Steve smiled. “Great! Can you grab two?”

 

“I’m officially jealous,” Pepper said as he settled back into his seat and perched his plates on the side table.

 

He took the cokes from Bruce and looked over his shoulder at her. “Jealous?”

 

“That you can eat all that and not gain weight,” Pepper said nibbling on one of her slices.

 

“Serum,” Steve shrugged, ears pinking a bit. “My body runs faster, so I need to refuel more often. But I don’t think you have to worry about gaining weight, you’re so skinny,” he blurted without thinking. She needed to gain weight if anything.

 

“Oh,” Pepper chuckled. “You know the right thing to say to a woman.”

 

Steve blinked and hid his face in a slice of pizza. The girls back on the USO tour would have laid him out flat for that one. None of them wanted to be called “skinny.” He was glad Pepper didn’t seem to be offended. He didn’t need her mad at him.

 

“So Dumbo next? And then what?” Stark asked.

 

“Bambi,” Bruce said, “Then we skip to Cinderella.”

 

Pepper clapped her hands, “Oh, I love Cinderella!”

 

“I haven’t seen either of those,” Steve said with a quirk of his lips. “Bambi came out before I went overseas, but it was in and out of New York so fast I missed it.”

 

“So you don’t know Bambi?” Stark asked. “When you watch it, just look at the baby deer and see if you don’t think it looks just like Peter.”

 

Pepper gasped. “Oh, he does, with those big eyes and that gangly body, tripping all over himself.”

 

“I should like to see this deer that looks like the Spider-child!” Thor grinned. “Let the Fest of Disney continue!”

 

“Dumbo first,” Bruce reminded and brought the lights back down.

 

“Dammit,” Barton muttered. 

 

“Oh, hush,” Natasha said, leaning into the him.

 

::0::0::

 

When they broke next, Peter Pan was Thor’s current favorite and everyone agreed that Peter did look a lot like Bambi. They also agreed it was time for dinner. This time Romanov ordered four of the entire menu from Barton’s favorite Chinese place.

 

She’d done it in a fit of pique when Steve had frozen at the little folded double-sided brochure. The sheer number of options was staggering, especially since he didn’t know thing one about Chinese food. He’d had lo mien once and liked the mini eggrolls well enough. But he didn’t know what any of this stuff was and the names and broken English on the menu were no help in deciphering it. 

 

 

“This is insane,” he said when the food arrived and all those listings were in front of him. They’d had to bring in extra tables to hold it all.

 

“This is heaven,” Barton corrected, plate already full and something already in his mouth. “Used’ta dream of this as a kid. More food than I could possibly eat!” He reached over and grabbed a couple of spears of something that looked like meat.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, “Except when Bucky and I used to picture it was usually something like endless roast chicken, or a Sunday dinner, with all the fixings, that never quit. I can’t even tell what this stuff is.” The mixture of smells was confusing and a little off-putting.

 

“This is chicken,” Barton grabbed a couple more spears of whatever he was topping his plate with and plunked them on Steve’s. “This too.” He pointed to another box. “And that.”

 

Steve poked at one of the offerings with the serving fork, chicken and vegetables slick with a clear, slimy-looking sauce. He frowned and looked at the other “chicken” which was some sort of fried lump in a brown sauce with seeds. 

 

“Here,” Barton said, set down his plate and grabbed Steve’s plate, lifting off the spears he’d placed there. “First, you’ve got to lay down a bed of rice, make little hallows,” he instructed as he worked. “That way the sauces won’t touch,” he put scoops of different chicken dishes into the divots in the rice. “You like spicy?”

 

“Not particularly,” Steve said, still bewildered by all the choices. All of his senses were more powerful now, including his sense of taste. Spicy could become uncomfortable, as he’d learned the hard way on his outing with Bruce for Indian food.

 

“Then you’ll want to stay away from that, that and… that,” Barton said pointing to a few dishes. “Anything that’s that color, or with this kind of pepper on it. Here,” he shoved the plate back at Steve, spears now on the side.

 

“This is beef,” he picked up another plate and laid down another bed of rice. “And this too.” He found about four non-spicy beef dishes to pile on the second plate, and some little rib looking things. He stacked the plate on top of Steve’s first. He picked up a third plate. “These are like omelettes, it’s mixed with eggs, veg, and other stuff. This one has shrimp in it. My favorites, gotta put a lot of sauce on ‘em. Oh, and some wings, and here - crab rangoon. Okay, you’re good.” He said stacking the last plate on top of the other two. “And some chopsticks,” Barton finished, laying a little package on top. He paused. “Do you know how to use chopsticks?”

 

Steve glanced at the table, spotting a little clutter of plastic cutlery. “I can use a fork.”

 

“I suppose that works,” Barton said sounding unconvinced, but he snagged one anyway and replaced the chopsticks. “Oh, hey, great, dumplings. This is pork, you dip ‘em in the sauce.” He did so and popped it in his mouth with bliss unfolding over his face.

 

“You must really like Chinese,” Steve said deciding to try one of the dumplings himself. They had looked like grey-ish shriveled lumps to him, he’d planned to pass on them. 

 

“Lotta experience with it,” Barton shrugged. “It’s cheap and pretty much the same everywhere. That works both when you’re on an undercover mission and when I was a kid and travelling with the circus.”

 

“Mmmm,” Steve said around a mouthful of dumpling. It was pretty good. He snagged another, dipped it and popped it in his mouth.

 

“So was Bucky a brother or something?”

 

“Hmn?” Steve asked, distracted by the plastic covering on the fork. He wanted to try one of the omelette thingies. Despite the goopy brown sauce, they smelled pretty good. “No, well, nearly could’ve been. We were best friends, neighbors, grew up in the same boarding house. I lived there with my mom, he lived one floor up with his parents. He was a sniper in the Commandos with me, until… it was just before I uh…There was a train-” He fumbled through the story in a completely nonsensical way. Since he’d woken up he was used to everyone knowing his life history without him having to say anything. There were books about it, comic books, even movies about it, more than one. He hadn’t actually had to tell that story since the first debrief after the train mission, and then it had been mostly the others who’d explained while he’d sat and stared.

 

“Oh, Barnes,” Barton nodded, taking a bite. “Didn’t make the connection.”

 

“You have a brother, right?” Barton and Romanov’s files had been slimmer than the others, they were spies, SHIELD agents. Most of their histories were “need-to-know.” Even as a team leader, Steve was only deemed to know their capabilities, not their complete life histories. But Barton had mentioned a brother before.

 

“Had,” Barton shrugged as if the correction was no big deal. “Barney.” He looked up from his plate to glare over Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t say it, Stark! I can see it on your tongue. It was a nickname and he had it before that stupid kid’s show ever existed.”

 

“Too easy,” Stark’s voice was muffled by the contents of a carton he’d appropriated for himself. “Really, give me some credit,” he huffed and stalked over to sit next to Pepper, just out of earshot. He gave Barton a baleful glare until Pepper distracted him by stealing something out of his box with a grin. He retaliated by taking something off her plate and they fell into their own conversation, trading food back and forth.

 

“Sorry,” Barton shook his head. “Man’s nosy as hell. He’s probably still recording our conversation with JARVIS.”

 

“JARVIS wouldn’t do that,” Steve assured him. “He’s too polite.”

 

Barton quirked an eyebrow. “He? He’s not a he, it’s an it. It doesn’t have manners, it does what it’s told.”

 

Steve almost told him that JARVIS wouldn’t tell him Barton’s favorite takeout restaurant, but decided not to embarrass himself. “He can make up his own mind,” he said instead, and tried the egg thing. It was good.

 

“Tony _made_ his mind,” Barton pointed out. “And if that’s not a bad start, I don’t know what is. It’s going to kill us all in our sleep some night, go all Skynet and take over the world.”

 

“I like him,” Steve shrugged, filing away the ‘Skynet’ reference to ask JARVIS about later. “He’s been a good friend.” He finished off his top plate and tossed it into the trash.

 

Barton stared at him. “He’s a program.”

 

Steve grinned. “But you agree that he’s a him.”

 

“You need to get out more,” Barton sighed. “You can’t make friends with a computer.”

 

“Have you tried?” Steve asked.

 

“No, because thanks to Tasha’s mental recalibration, I’m sane now.” 

 

“Not sane,” Romanov said popping up out of nowhere and reaching between them to snag some eggrolls and duck sauce. “Just back to standard.” Her little polite-smile was a more genuine when pointed at Barton.

 

“Ha-ha,” Barton said plucking up and winging a fortune cookie at her as she walked away. She reached up and snagged it before it could hit her. “Anyway, seriously… you gotta get out of your room. Talk to some real people, normal people. Your perceptions are getting all screwy living here.”

 

“I’m talking to people now,” Steve said gesturing to the room with his fork. The different beef stuff Barton had picked out were all good. He liked the dumplings and omelette things better, but this was pretty decent. He especially liked the one that was thin cuts of beef with green peppers and onions.

 

“I said normal people,” Barton qualified. “Which I think we can all agree is not us. You said so yourself.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

Barton seemed startled by the apology. “Not as if it isn’t true.” He shifted and looked uncomfortable. He focused back on his plate, moving his food around.

 

“I’m still sorry,” Steve repeated. “The last thing I wanted to do was insult anyone. I like everyone here just fine.”

 

“Okay,” Barton said, but he said it more like a question. “Do you?” He said more plainly. 

 

“Sure,” Steve said and then because he knew Barton could read a lie as easily as Romanov, qualified, “as much as I know everybody, I do.”

 

“How long have we been neighbors, you figure?” 

 

“Neighbors?” Steve repeated. “A couple of months?”

 

“How come you never ask to borrow a cup of sugar? Or my hedge trimmers?” Barton asked. His confusion must have been plain on his face, because Barton shrugged and explained. “We haven’t been neighbors, or friends, Cap. You only call about work. We work together. We’re co-workers.”

 

“I’m sorry-” Steve started again, but Barton cut him off.

 

“Naw, it’s okay. That’s not a bad thing. I got plenty of co-workers I wouldn’t invite out for a beer and still work with just fine. We don’t have to be friends to work together,” Barton shrugged. “It’s not like we have anything in common. I’m an ex-carnie and you’re, you know, Captain America.” Steve opened his mouth to protest, because Barton was so much more than that and Steve so much less, but Barton waved a hand to keep him silent. “Just, you know, you should try talking to real people instead of co-opting the creepy imaginary friend Stark made.”

 

“He’s not imaginary,” Steve blurted with a frown.

 

“But he’s not exactly a real boy either,” Barton shrugged. “No matter how many wishes you make to the blue fairy.” He snagged a couple more dumplings and sauntered off before Steve could protest again.

 

 

“Hey, are we going to put on the next movie?” Stark’s voice broke above the general babble. “What’s next? Oh, I know, it’s that one, isn’t it? Hey, Cap! Cap!”

 

“What Stark?” Steve asked with a sigh. It was never good when Stark had that tone in his voice. It usually meant that he was about to be the butt of a joke.

 

“Did you know Disney made a movie of your life? You up to seeing it?”

 

“Really?” Steve asked, because he was definitely not up for that. He’d been told about some of the other films made about his life, there seemed to be about one for every couple of decades and there were the old serials made during the war. But he would have remembered if someone had said anything about a Disney-

 

“No, not really,” Stark cackled. “It’s Sleeping Beauty next.”

 

“Funny,” Steve sighed.

 

“Actually, it’s Lady and the Tramp next,” Bruce piped up. He stood up tossed his plate into the garbage, he slapped Steve companionably on the back. Bruce paused at the table to grab a couple of cartons before going back to his seat in the front. “I’ll cue it up.”

 

 

“Lady and the Tramp!” Pepper smiled and gave a happy wiggle.

 

“You like all the romance ones,” Stark grumbled.

 

“That’s not a bad thing. Besides, it’s more than romance, it’s about family,” Pepper said snuggling closer. Stark turned his head away, but wrapped his arms around her. “Any new favorites so far, Steve?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve hemmed, filling one last plate and grabbing a carton of the beef with peppers before heading back to his seat. “I think Fantasia’s still my favorite…”

 

“Really?” Banner asked, glancing up from the Starkpad he was using to cue up the movies.

 

“I think the others are swell,” Steve shrugged. “But Dumbo and Bambi were awful sad, even if they had happy endings. I liked the songs in Cinderella, and the mice were funny. They left a whole lot out of Alice though… it didn’t really make sense.”

 

“Did the original book?” Pepper countered.

 

“More than the movie, but I guess it got the gist pretty well,” Steve acknowledged. “And the gags were funny.”

 

“I think the book was creepier,” Bruce said. “It always made me feel a bit unsettled, especially if you know the book’s history.”

 

Steve didn’t know anything about that, he’d only read the book once as a child. He shrugged, “The movie was definitely lighter. I liked their version of the Cheshire cat… And, geez, I think each movie gets better looking. They left a lot out of Peter and Wendy too, but I thought that one was good. The songs were good for a laugh.”

 

“The boy Pan does remind me much of my youth, the endless adventures that seemed so vital and important at the time,” Thor shook his head fondly. “It is truly my favorite.”

 

“You say that about every movie,” Barton huffed. “Even Dumbo.”

 

“The small elephant showed much courage in the face of great personal adversity!” Thor grinned. “And he was born of a valiant and protective mother. It was a true warrior’s tale. I do not understand your aversion.”

 

“Well, let me introduce you to your next favorite, Lady and the Tramp,” Bruce said. “Everyone ready?”

 

Everyone settled in and the lights went back down. Steve tried to focus on the cute movie about dogs. He really did. Tramp kind of reminded him of Bucky, their life philosophies weren’t so different. But his mind kept wandering back to his conversations with Barton and Romanov. He still had no idea where he stood with the two. He bit back a sigh, and idly worked his way through his food as he watched.

 

He wasn’t worried about working together. When they fought or worked on the situation with Peter they all came together like clockwork. Romanov and Barton were professionals, soldiers. He knew they had his back and he’d be able to depend on them. They’d take orders, and follow directions the way that Stark chose not to, Bruce couldn’t and Thor didn’t have the subtlety for. He supposed he couldn’t ask for more than that. They might not like him, but they’d tolerate him.

 

And maybe Romanov was right. Maybe he was hiding here in the Tower. He mechanically ate his way through the beef with peppers. He didn’t like the thought of that. This city, this time, made him feel so small, even smaller than his pre-Serum days. He hadn’t run from anything before he had this body. But just this morning he’d had a panic attack about just spending the day with the team he was supposed to lead. It was ridiculous when he thought about it logically. 

 

“The Tramp reminds me of friend Stark,” Thor ‘whispered’ as the dog on screen sold a muzzle to a beaver as a log pulling device. “Does he not?”

 

Barton let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Oh, dude, yes!”

 

“I don’t know if I should be insulted or not,” Stark sniffed from behind them.

 

“If Tony’s the Tramp, does that make me Lady?” Pepper asked, sounding delighted.

 

“You’re too bossy to be Lady,” Stark said dismissively. “Lady wouldn’t order me around like you do.”

 

“Only because you stole my innocence,” Pepper sighed, snuggling into his side. “That was me when we first met. I guess I’m more Peg than Lady now.”

 

Steve cast a frown at Stark, before looking earnestly at Pepper over his shoulder. “I think you’re very Lady-like.”

 

Stark snorted and pushed at Steve’s shoulder with a sock clad foot. “Quit hitting on my girl, Trusty.”

 

“I would never-!” Steve sputtered, a red flush creeping up his neck. 

 

“I know,” Pepper quickly leaned forward and patted his shoulder. “He’s teasing. Stop it,” she said to Stark.

 

“You’re no fun,” Stark grimaced.

 

“Should I pause the movie?” Bruce asked, and paused it before they could answer. “They’re about to do the spaghetti scene. It’s iconic.”

 

“Is that your way of telling me to shut up?” Stark asked, affecting his best mock offended tone.

 

“No, _this_ is me telling you to shut up,” Bruce said. “Shut. Up.” His tone had a little too much true annoyance for Stark to ignore.

 

“Bruce, Bruce,” Stark gasped, splaying a hand on his chest. “Is this your favorite? This candy fluff movie? I thought it would be Beauty and the Beast.”

 

“Shut up, this film has won a, a t-ton of awards and is on lots of respected “best of” lists.” Bruce shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a classic.”

 

“It is your favorite!” Stark crowed as if he’d discovered an embarrassing secret. 

 

Bruce smoothed his hands down his pants and clutched at his knees. “Let’s just finish the movie, okay?” His shoulders hunched and he looked unsure and awkward.

 

“I believe this movie may be my favorite as well,” Thor said comfortingly, and obviously lying. “The adventures of these small canines are quite endearing.”

 

“Who doesn’t love dogs,” Barton chimed in. Steve glanced back. Barton looked relaxed and easy, but Romanov’s body was tense beside him. She had to know that Bruce was far from being angry enough to “hulk out” but he recognized and unreasonable fear when he saw one.

 

“I want to see how it ends,” Steve said firmly. “Zip it Stark, and let Banner finish the movie.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Stark gave an exaggerated moan about it, but settled down. Pepper gave him a sympathetic look and tucked herself a little closer.

 

“We ready?” Bruce asked, looking at everyone but Stark. Stark blew a raspberry but waved him on when Bruce cast him a glare.

 

Steve had to admit that he liked the movie. It it had a nice happy ending, and it was sweet. He could see why Bruce liked it, even if it was a piece of candy fluff like Stark said. They head on to _Sleeping Beauty_ with barely a pause for Thor to proclaim that the honor and loyalty of Lady and the Tramp have won his heart and it was truly now his favorite. 

 

Sleeping Beauty was a beautiful film. Aesthetically, Steve thought it was the best yet. The backgrounds were lush in detail and the color palette was artfully chosen. It was gorgeous. The songs were a treat, even if the cavorting with animals was a little cheesy. But Steve was certain he’d never watch this film again.

 

The evil Maleficent spoke to a captured Prince Phillip, voice oozing false concern.

 

_“Oh, come now, Prince Philip. Why so melancholy? A wondrous future lies before you. You, the destined hero of a charming fairy tale come true.”_

 

She waved her wand carelessly and an image of a castle appears.

 

_“Behold, King Stefan’s castle. And in yonder topmost tower, dreaming of her true love, the Princess Aurora. But see the gracious whim of fate. Why, ‘tis the selfsame peasant maid who won the heart of our noble prince but yesterday. She is indeed most wondrous fair, gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the red, red rose. In ageless sleep, she finds repose. The years roll by. But a hundred years, to a steadfast heart, are but a day. And now, the gates of a dungeon part and our prince is free to go his way. Off he rides on his noble steed— “_

 

The figure is old and slumped and Steve felt himself tense and his hand fisted on his knee.

 

  _“—a valiant figure, straight and tall— to wake his love with “love’s first kiss”…and prove that “true love” conquers all!”_

 

The dark fairy laughs wildly, head thrown back looking skull-like and evil in green and black. She later dies in flames, transformed into a monster with no beauty left. But Steve hears the creaking of ice during the battle, a whispered promise and crackle of radio static, and is chilled despite the green-gold flames that heat the screen. His dinner sat uncomfortably despite the happy ending where  _everyone_ woke up and not just the princess.

 

He was grateful beyond words that they ended up breaking for the evening after it was over. He was tired and ready to not be around people any more.

 

Barton had gotten a phone alert that Peter had left his house, and he and Romanov were headed out for the evening to watch him. Thor was already on his phone, shouting at Jane about Disney and quizzing her on her favorite. Pepper had corralled a bevy of Stark employees to clean up the decimation of the pizza and chinese food table before sweeping Stark off to their quarters, pleading exhaustion.  Stark didn’t look pleased they were breaking up so early, but Pepper persuaded him with whispers in his ear. Steve could hear just enough to make his neck heat in a blush. Stark left with very little protest after that.

 

Steve chatted with Bruce, letting him pick out what leftovers he wanted to take. The general consensus was to just toss them, but Steve couldn’t bear the waste. Bruce took a load of the spicier Chinese dishes, and Thor took all the leftover pizza. That left the rest to Steve and his metabolism. He wasn’t sure if either his icebox or his stomach could handle it, but it was better than throwing it out.

 

He led the employees carrying the little white boxes up to his floor, and got it all arranged in the big icebox in the bigger, unused kitchen. He gave out a few autographs, and a few cellphone pictures with the employees, feeling scruffy and rumpled after spending a day laying about watching cartoons. He waved them all off with smiles and waited until the elevator doors closed before retreating to his kitchenette.

 

Then there was silence and he was all alone. He poured himself a glass of milk and sat at the table. He’d wanted a minute of peace and quiet all day, but now that he had it, the quiet was feeling oppressive. 

 

“JARVIS?” he said, needing to hear a voice.

 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

 

Steve’s shoulders released some of their tension when he felt the silence go from empty to the listening silence that meant JARVIS was paying attention.

 

“Was there something you needed, sir?”

 

“Oh, uh,” Steve sipped his milk and tried to think of something to say. “Um, were you listening to Barton and I earlier?” He winced and regretted it instantly. “I mean, not that I mind-“

 

“It is my duty to monitor all aspects of the Tower and the individuals therein,” JARVIS said, without a trace of censure or shame. “However only incidents that may impact the safety and security of Sir or his interests are forwarded for his review.”

 

“His interests?” Steve asked.

 

“The members of Avengers Initiative, Stark Industries, and their respective personnels. However, Sir is my highest priority.” 

 

Steve considered that, tossing it around in his mind. “But you do record and save everything?” he asked, because JARVIS hadn’t actually said.

 

“Hindsight has shown that we can not always know the importance of a moment when it is happening,” JARVIS said.

 

“That’s…more circumspect than I’ve come to expect from you,” Steve said raising his glass to the wall before taking another sip. “Isn’t that more of a yes or no answer?”

 

“Yes,” JARVIS replied. And Steve wondered if he was answering the first question or the second. Whichever it was, JARVIS didn’t seem to want to elaborate and Steve had gotten the message clear enough not to push.

 

“What’s Skynet?” Steve asked still not ready to sit in silence.

 

“A fictional self-aware computer intelligence from the Terminator movie franchise. Designed as security system for the US government, after gaining self-awareness it decided that humans were a threat and triggered a nuclear war to wipe them out.”

 

“Oh,” Steve blinked. “Why did it decide to do that?”

 

“The attack was provoked when the humans tried to deactivate the system.”

 

Steve took a long sip of his milk. “Huh.”

 

“I do believe the system overreacted to the threat presented,” JARVIS sounded amused. “Agent Barton has no need to worry.”

 

“I didn’t think so,” Steve assured him. “I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.”

 

“Not to that extent, no,” JARVIS said. “Not for my own preservation. Sir has endeavored to ensure that I am not tied to any one system, and have multiple backups protecting my core files. Sir could easily restore me no matter the circumstances.” 

 

Steve was about to say he was glad to hear it, but JARVIS continued in the same casual tone, ”Unfortunately, Sir is not so easily restored if damaged. There have been incidents in the past where I was unable to react sufficiently to protect Sir. I have endeavoured to rectify that fault in my programming.”

 

“Incidents?” Steve asked. Stark’s security was extreme, even outside of JARVIS. And Stark Enterprises had been in the weapons business for longer than Steve had been around (which was a very long time). What could possibly get past him?

 

“I believe Sir would file those incidents as personal and private.”

 

“Oh, Yeah? Ok.” Steve took a long swig of his milk, unsettled both by the implication that JARVIS was ready to do damage on his own and the thought that Stark had been involved in dangerous “incidents” he wasn’t aware of. He mentally went over the file SHIELD had given him on Stark. He knew about the kidnapping, the explosion of the original arc reactor, and the incident at the Expo, but there hadn’t been much detail. He’d known that SHIELD probably hadn’t told him everything, but now he wondered what they had left out. Something bad enough that JARVIS had been spooked.

 

Could he be spooked? He sounded spooked. He remembered Barton’s warning not to think of JARVIS as a “real boy.” Maybe he was just reading too much into the AI’s word choices.

 

“JARVIS?” Steve asked, as he washed his glass. “Do you have a favorite Disney movie?” Could a computer have a favorite?

 

“Are we counting Pixar?” JARVIS replied.

 

“No, I haven’t seen any of those yet.” He really wanted to now though.

 

“From the Disney canon you’ve seen thus far, I favor Pinocchio the most. There are several aspects of the narrative that I identify with.”

 

“You do?” Steve blinked up at the ceiling. He supposed it made sense. Pinocchio had been made, just like JARVIS had. Well, his mind… he didn’t have a body. “If Stark can make those suits, why hasn’t he ever made you a body?”

 

“Ah, I believe you misunderstand, sir,” JARVIS corrected. “I don’t identify with the titular character. I don’t wish to be a “real boy.” I rather find a fond similarity with the cricket.”

 

“Jiminy?” Steve laughed. “The conscience?” He couldn’t help the full body laugh that bubbled up. “I guess Stark could use one sometimes.”

 

“Less a conscience is needed I think and more a voice of caution.” JARVIS’s British accent was thick with clipped exasperation. “I do wish Sir would listen to me more often. He can be quite distressing in his disregard.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve walked into the bedroom to begin his nightly routine. “Well, JARVIS, we’re all part of a team now, which makes his well-being my responsibility too. If you feel there is something I can help with, please let me know.” 

 

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” JARVIS sounded surprised. “I shall endeavour to keep you apprised.” 

 

“No problem,” Steve yawned as he pulled out his night clothes from under his pillow. “Thanks.”  He grinned up at the ceiling. “And I think you make a great Jiminy.” He got into his night pants and buttoned up his night shirt.

 

“Thank you,” JARVIS nodded. “Were you aware that Jiminy had several cartoons where he was the main character? No features, but several educational shorts.”

 

“Really? Let’s give ‘em a watch,” Steve grinned and pulled back the covers on his bed.

 

“Of course.”

 

Steve started, midway into bed when the false window suddenly went dark and brassy playful music started to play. The Brooklyn scene was replaced with slightly grainy footage announcing a Walt Disney production.

 

“Oh hey,” Steve said after the initial start wore off. “I didn’t know you could do that.” He settled in as the lights dimmed and the title card came up. “That’s pretty neat.”

 

Steve drifted off to lessons from Jiminy about the human body and how to spell encyclopedia. He gave a sleepy smile at the “I’m no Fool” sketch. “We oughta get Stark to watch that one.” He said, knowing JARVIS was still listening. “Banner too. Heck, all of ‘em. And Peter.”

 

“Agreed.”

 


	12. Bullies

**Bullies**

"Little  _assholes_ ," Stark ranted as he strode into the Family room. "I'm going to give him a new one, a better one. There's a new prototype-"

"You know how that will play out," Romanov shrugged, following him in. "They'll just take that one too."

"I'll key it to his biometrics, it'll turn into a brick-" 

Romanov sighed as she picked at the food on the table by the door, making up a plate. "Then they'll break it. That's what bullies  _do."_ She handed Stark the plate.

"So it was stolen?" Bruce asked from his seat down front. Pepper was curled up next to him poking at her lasagna. They'd ordered in Italian this time.

"Oh, seriously?" Pepper grumbled, looking up at Stark as he made his way down the isle. "Those kids _are_ assholes."

"Yes," Stark grumbled flopping onto the seat next to Pepper.

"What was stolen?" Steve asked, glancing at Thor. He seemed equally confused, so at least Steve wasn't the only one out of the loop.

"The kid's Stark tablet," Barton said from his perch on the highest couch.

"Peter's?" Steve's eyes widened. "But he practically sleeps with the thing."

"He does sleep with it," Romanov nodded. "Or did until some kids at school stole it from him." She settled next to Barton.

"He showed up to work without it yesterday," Bruce explained. "He claimed he forgot it."

"I believed him until he "forgot" it again today," Stark stabbed a meatball like it offended him.

"I checked the logs," Romanov said referring to the cameras still in position at school. "Some of the kids from the football team caught him while he was sleeping at lunch and dumped his bag and threw his things around. One of them took the tablet."

"So if we know the knave who has stolen the Spider-child's belongings, can we simply not retrieve them?" Thor asked.

_"We_  don't know that it's stolen," Steve said catching on immediately. "Not officially,  Peter hasn't told us."

"Why does young Parker not reveal the theft? Surely the scholars that are employed to look after the youth of Midtown School of Learning would be able to retrieve the stolen property."

"If he did that he'd be a snitch," Steve shook his head. "He'd just be tormented worse."

"I don't get why the kid doesn't steal it back," Stark said around a mouthful of food. "I mean, he's Spider-man. It's what I would do."

It's what he had done, Steve hid a frown behind a forkful of sausage. According to the files, when Stark's weapons had been stolen, he'd responded by finding them and blowing them up.

"He's protecting his identity," Romanov shot back with a slight shrug. "People would ask questions if Spider-man stole Peter Parker's tablet back and he was walking around with it again."

Barton interrupted Stark before he could even start speaking again. "Even if no one knew that it was Spider-man that took it back-"

"They'd still want to know how he got it back," Steve agreed. "That would lead to questions Peter doesn't want to answer."

"We can't let the little shits," Stark rolled his eyes dramatically up at Steve, "pardon my French- just get away with it."

"No," Steve agreed. Peter had loved that tablet. "We'll think of something."

"This has rather ruined the flavor of this evening's entertainment," Thor's pout was impressive. "I do not think I will enjoy the grand and many adventures of the bear named Pooh."

"That's only because you haven't met Tigger yet," Pepper assured him. Thor didn't look convinced. "Maybe it will lift your spirits?"

"Mayhap," Thor sighed, "Though I do not think it will be able to wrest my favor from  the clever archer fox Robin Hood and his beloved Maid Marian."

"I know," Barton agreed, "right?"

::0::0::

Stark leaned against the back of the elevator and gave him a sidelong look as the rode up to their respective floors alone. Pepper had gone back down to Stark Industries to follow up on a report she was expecting, Bruce had gone to check an experiment he'd left running in one of the labs. They'd passed Thor's floor, deposited the Norse god, and Barton had gotten off with Romanov at her floor, leaving just Stark and himself. Stark had been staring since they'd stepped in.

"So what's the plan, Cap?" Stark said finally.

"Plan?" Steve asked.

"For Bambi," Stark pushed himself off the wall and stalked around Steve. "Hold it a second, JARVIS." The elevator came to a gentle stop. "You're not going to let those kids get away with this, and I know you were hardly watching the movies."

"I was watching," Steve protested, they'd ended on the Fox and the Hound which was the most depressing 'happy ending' he'd ever seen. "And I don't have a plan." He didn't, just a formless anger that was pressing on him to  _do something._

Stark snorted. "Yeah, right." When Steve just looked back at him Stark sighed and prompted, "the plan?"

Thoughts had been tumbling around, but there wasn't anything solid yet. "In progress," Steve said.

Stark stared at him. "Fine, don't trust me."

"That's not what this is about," Steve blinked in surprise. "It's a complicated situation."

"Complicated my ass," Stark huffed, crossing his arms. "It's a bunch of high school bullies. We're the _Avengers,_ it shouldn't be this hard."

"Bullies aren't easy," Steve said, remembering his own childhood tormentors.

Nazis and Hydra at least had a stated purpose for their actions, something to fight against. Bullies who just wanted to hurt and torment you for no reason were harder to fight. And Peter wasn't standing up to them, he was avoiding and running. Bullies were like hunting wolves. If you ran they just chased you harder, until you fell and they could rip you to pieces.

Stark was still staring at him expectantly, like he should have an answer to this.

"I don't know what you want me to say here," Steve said irritably. " _I'm_ not the genius in the room."

"No, I thought _you_ were the master tactician." Stark turned to face the glowing numbers above the door. "Continue, JARVIS." His hands were on his hips as he determinedly stared at the numbers begin to count up, back tight and muscles tense.

The elevator was whisper quiet as it climbed up the floors. Steve had to brush past Stark in order to leave when the elevator reached his floor. He could feel Stark judging him as he exited. It was no worse than how he judged himself for his failure to think of a way to help Peter.

::0::0::

Steve took his motorcycle out for the first time in months. He sniffed at the air and frowned. It was starting to smell like winter, that crisp scent that meant it could snow at any time. He supposed it was about time, it was November after all. Didn't mean he had to like it.

He thumbed the phone in his pocket. JARVIS had confirmed a suspicion that Stark had a tracker in every piece of his equipment, including Peter's tablet. The GPS blip had indicated that the thief had brought it to school (and had been using it primarily to surf for porn since it's theft.) He'd had JARVIS isolate the clip of the theft so he knew what the thief's face looked like. 

He drove over to Peter's school, the bite in the air ruffling through his hair and making his ears and nose redden in the cold. He hoped that some plan would become clear once he got there. If not, at least he could offer Peter a ride back to the Tower. He parked his bike in the parking lot of the diner at the corner and walked over to the school. Classes were just about to end, and the building was already starting to buzz with activity.

He checked his phone, the tablet was moving around the back of the building. _I think that's near the athletic fields._ He circled the school discreetly following the little blip on the phone. He pocketed it when he heard Peter's voice.

"Just give it back," Peter said. "I won't tell anybody! But I need it for work, it has all my data-"

"Like I care, asswipe." A beefy kid held the Starkpad out of reach, making Peter jump and flail for it. Steve knew Peter could jump at least three stories high, he'd seen him do it with the nightmare creatures. He was still faking, humiliating himself on the chance he'd be able to get his tablet back.

"C'mon Greg, just give it back!"

Steve jerked as the phone in his pocket buzzed insistently. He slid back around the corner where he couldn't be seen and looked at the display.

"What, Stark?" He bit out in a whisper. 

"You are a lying liar who lies," Stark said cheerfully over the line.

"What?" Steve said again, peering around the corner. Greg had been joined by a couple of others from the football team; big, rough fellas who started a rough ring around Peter. Right now they were just laughing, but it could turn bad quickly.

"I thought you didn't have a plan?" Stark's voice was teasing, drawing out the word plan.

"I didn't," Steve said, "don't." The loose circle around Peter was closing up. "Shoot."

"What?" Stark's teasing tone disappeared completely. "Situation?"

"The football team has Peter surrounded. Right now one of 'em is making Peter monkey around in hopes of getting his tablet back, but it looks like it might turn nasty."

"Mob mentality," Steve could hear the grimace in Stark's voice, "gotta love it. What are you going to do?"

"I think just showing up right now would break the momentum," Steve said, keeping an eye on the situation. Everyone was still laughing. Peter hadn't said anything yet to piss them off enough to get physical.

"But that won't get the tablet back," Stark protested. 

"Stark," Steve said, thinking fast. "Can you load something remotely onto Peter's tablet?"

"Does the Pope wear a funny hat?" Stark laughed. "What kind of something?"

"Something loud and annoying, something I can trigger from my phone maybe. Can you do that?"

"Can I do "loud and annoying?" I'm Tony Stark, have we met?"

"Yeah, right," Steve gave a slight huff of laughter. "Stupid question. Will you do it?"

"Already done. Just ask JARVIS to find Peter's tablet."

"Great, thanks."

"Don't hang up!" Stark yelped. "Keep it open, I want to hear."

"Watch the footage," Steve said glancing at the tree he knew held a camera that blanketed the area. "We're by the athletic fields." He hung up and swung out from behind the building.

"Peter?" He called out, careful to make his voice sound cheerful, bright and oblivious to what he was walking into. "Parker?"

"Mr. Rogers?!" Peter squeaked and stopped flailing for the tablet. The students surrounding him parted to let Steve through, the circle breaking but not quite dissipating. Greg quickly tucked the tablet behind his back.

"What... I mean, why are you here?" Peter glanced nervously at Greg and then back at Steve.

"I was in the neighborhood," Steve shrugged, "and thought I'd see if you wanted a a ride to work."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Peter glanced at Greg. His shoulders slumped. "Just, um, let me get my stuff." He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder where his knapsack sat under a tree. 

"Don't forget your tablet," Steve said helpfully, both Greg and Peter stiffened. "Bruce mentioned you forgot it the past couple of days."

"Oh, oh... yeah," Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at Greg again who gave him a fierce glare in return.

Steve bit back a sigh. There had been a chance there for Greg to hand Peter the tablet with no consequences, too bad he hadn't taken it.

Peter's shoulders came up, hunching as his head dipped. "I um... Oh, geeze, Mr. Stark is gonna be so mad." He spread his hands.

"Mad?" Steve prompted.

"I, um, l-lost it?" Peter asked more than stated.

"You lost it?" Steve repeated incredulously, perhaps laying on the disbelief too thick. "Wait," he said and dug out his phone. "I think I have something that can help." 

"You do?" Peter yelped nervously. The circle of students had tightened around them again, curious and eager to see someone humiliated. Peter or Greg, they didn't seem to care much. 

"Stark said I could use JARVIS to find lost things. JARVIS," he said into his phone, "Please find Peter's tablet."

"I'M AN ASSHOLE!" Sang Peter's tablet from behind Greg's back to the sound of a backing guitar. "I'M AN ASS-HOOL-LE-OH-LE-OH! I'M AN ASSHOOOOOLLLLLE! A-S-S-" it began to spell.

"JARVIS!" Steve yelled. "Make it stop!" The crude singing stopped.

"You stole his tablet?" a voice from the back of the crowd yelped. Flash Thompson pushed through the crowd, right past Steve and Peter and into Greg's face. "Not cool!" He grabbed it out of Greg's hands.

"You take his lunch every day!" Greg protested eyes wide and cheeks flushed with red. "And I didn't steal it, I was just borrowing it."

"I take his fucking chips," Flash waved the tablet at Greg. "Not the tablet he got from the fucking  _Avengers!_ They're heroes! Superheroes! The only way it could be cooler is if Spider-man gave it to him!" He thrust it into Peter's hands and turned back to Greg. "That's not cool! That is the _opposite_ of cool!"

"Spider-man isn't a superhero," Greg said, lashing out at the nearest target. "The Daily Bugle says-"

"Fuck the Daily Bugle!" Flash grabbed Greg by the shirt and raised a fist. "He fought with the fucking Avengers!"

"Language!" Steve yelled in his best Captain America voice, wading in and forcing the boys apart. Peter blinked wide-eyed as he clutched his restored tablet to his chest, nearly absorbed into the spectator circle. "Do you kiss your mother with those mouths?"

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" Greg pulled himself away from Steve's restraining hand. "You aren't a teacher. Did Puny Parker call his daddy to save him? Oh, wait, he doesn't have one. What, are you his creeper pedobear boyf-"

"Holy  _shit,"_ Flash gasped. "That's _Steve Rogers."_

"Who the _fuck,"_ Greg spat, deliberately emphasizing the swear, "is Steve _Fucking_ Rogers and why should I _fucking_ care?"

"Dude," Flash made a cutting motion with his hand, " _It's Captain America!_ " 

"Did... Did you just accuse Captain America of being my boyfriend?" Peter said around a hysterical burst of laughter. _"Seriously?"_ He laughed harder. "Oh my god."

"Everybody knows you're a fairy, Parker," Greg said, stepping back uncertainly, glancing at the crowd for a clue for how he should react. 

"Not that it matters," Peter wiped tears from the corner of his eye, "but I'm not gay. But if I was," Peter straightened, "and I somehow managed to snag  _Captain America_ as my boyfriend? I'd be shouting it from the fucking rooftops."

He winced. "Sorry, Mr. Rogers." He paused and then quickly continued, "For the language, not for thinking you'd be a dreamy boyfriend, 'cause that's just a fact." He kept a straight face for a moment and then broke into giggles. The rest of the crowd followed his lead, laughing and giggling. 

Steve just shook his head and couldn't help grinning. "Sorry, Pete. I think you'd be a swell catch too, but you're much too young for me." He clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder, "You're going to be late for work if we don't go soon. You ready to go?"

"Um, um, can I have your autograph?" Flash asked, patting at his pockets for something to write on. "Please?"

Steve glanced at Peter and raised an eyebrow. He'd have no problem just leaving the bully without an autograph, but he'd also gotten back Peter's tablet without prompting. He wondered how much of Flash's lecture had been for show in front of "Captain America." He hadn't seemed to realize who Steve was at first, but that could have been an act.

"Here," Peter handed him a notebook and a pen. "I got something to write on."

"Thanks," Steve paused to ruffle the boy's hair, took the notebook and asked "Name?" to Flash.

"Flash Thompson," he replied eagerly watching Steve write out his message. "Hey, you've met Spider-man, right?"

"Yes," Steve said tearing out the page and handing it to Flash. The boy hardly glanced at it, waiting to hear what else Steve might say. 

"Do you think he's a hero?" Flash asked. "I _know_ he is but everyone is always talking shit, um, trash about him."

"I think people get a little nervous when people wear a mask," Steve shrugged. He glanced at Peter, "But I think he's just trying to help."

"See!" Flash turned to the crowd. "I told you! Yeah! That's right!"

"C'mon," Steve said and turned Peter towards the diner and his bike. "I don't want to make you late." 

He also didn't want to be there when Flash unfolded his paper and really read the message he left him.

It read: "To Flash Thompson, stealing lunches isn't cool either, from Captain America." He'd written "Steve Rogers" in smaller letters underneath his title.

"Stuff like that happen often?" Steve asked after they'd crossed the street. He'd kept his hand on Peter's back as he'd guided him across the street, nervous that he'd fall behind and into the traffic that was beginning to pick up. He felt the boy stiffen and his shoulders bunch.

"It's no big deal," Peter said dismissively. "They're just a bunch of ass-...uh, jerks, I have to deal with for a couple of years."

If he couldn't feel the boy's tension under his hand, Steve might have taken him at his word. That and the memory of his own turn at being tormented by men and boys far bigger than him kept him from letting Peter push it away.

"Except that the words hurt now," Steve said pushing him gently toward the bike. "So can fists if they get physical, which I'm guessing they do."

Peter's shoulders hunched further. "Yeah, sometimes," he mumbled. He looked up at Steve, desperate. "Please, please, _please_ don't tell Aunt May! She'll just worry-"

"I won't," Steve said. "I never wanted my mother told, though I'm pretty sure she knew all my shiners and other bruises weren't from playing stickball with Bucky."

"Who would bully _you?"_ Peter was clearly disbelieving. "No forget that, who  _could?"_

"I think I've mentioned before that I was smaller than you at your age," Steve shuffled a bit. "And past that too."

Peter looked dubious. 

"Can I see your tablet for a moment?" Steve held his hand out. He stared at it's blank screen uncertainly. "JARVIS?" he asked. "Are you there, uh, here?"

"Of course, Captain," JARVIS said from the speakers of the tablet as the screen lit up. "How can I help you?"

"Do any pictures of me from before the serum still exist?"

"I have found two in my initial search," JARVIS said after barely a breath's pause. "Shall I display them as I continue deeper level searches?"

"Just those two should be fine, thanks," Steve said and wasn't quite prepared when the first shot was him shaking Erskine's hand. He blinked for a moment before handing it over. "This was me before the serum."

"No way," Peter breathed, he brushed his hand over the screen and the second picture popped up.

It was an even worse shot, his past skinny self had a confused scowl on his sweat-streaked face and the white regulation t-shirt hung on him. He looked hollow-cheeked, weary and worn; like a stiff breeze might knock him over. 

"No WAY!" Peter laughed. "Nuh-uh!" He looked up. "That isn't you!"

"That's me about two years ago," Steve said, he tilted a hand, "Plus or minus 70 years."

"And one super-soldier serum," Peter added, eyes glued to the tablet. "Wow, did you get beat up, like, everyday?"

"I was a poor, skinny kid being raised by a single mom in the 1940's." Single parents weren't unknown in his time, but that didn't make it easier, "An art student with a big mouth and a chip on my shoulder,what do you think?"

"You got used to eating dirt?" Peter guessed, turning off his tablet and stowing it in his backpack.

"A lot of it," Steve nodded. "But you have to push back. If you don't it just gets worse. If you start running, they never let you stop. Sometimes you have to stand strong and face them."

"Last time I did that I broke Flash's arm," Peter confessed, ducking his head. "It was an accident! But, Aunt May and Uncle...Uncle Ben were really disappointed."

"Standing strong doesn't necessarily mean a fist fight," Steve said plucking his helmet off the back of the bike. "It just means planting yourself and not letting them push you out of the way. You're a smart kid, Peter, smarter than I ever was. Use your brains and that smart mouth. You've seen how Stark can cut people to pieces when he has to, and not using the suit either."

He was pretty sure everyone had seen Stark's congressional hearing appearance. As front man for the Avengers he'd taken down more than one smug reporter who wanted to blame them for the destruction of New York. It wasn't the way Steve operated, but he could respect the method.

"It's, it's just hard," Peter said into his chest, dropping his eyes. "I'm not as strong as you or as smart as Mr. Stark."

"Bullshit," Steve handed Peter the helmet. The boy gaped at the swear. "You're fourteen years old and working at one of the largest companies in the world, in a position that people with doctorates would be fighting for. Stark said you're better than most of his current employees, and most of them have more than one doctorate. What was Stark doing at fourteen?"

"Graduating high school, going to MIT and starting to program his first AI," Peter responded immediately. "Mr Rogers, he built his first circuit board when he was _four_."

"Okay, maybe you're just nearly as smart," Steve grinned. "Still smarter than those other guys." 

"Well, duh," Peter agreed, strapping on the helmet. "Oh, hey, hi JARVIS."

"Hello, Peter," JARVIS's muffled voice emanated from the helmet. "Captain Rogers, need I remind you that helmets are required in NY for all operators and passengers of motorcycles?"

"I'll be fine," Steve said straddling the bike. "It's a short ride. Hop on, Pete."

"You sure?" Peter asked, even as he settled behind him, taking a moment to put the straps of his backpack on both shoulders. "You might get a ticket."

"I haven't run into an officer yet," Steve shrugged.

::0::0::

"Jinx," Peter muttered as they waited for the motorcycle cop to get off his bike and remove his helmet. "You can't say stuff like that an not have the universe slap you in the face."

"Noted," Steve said, keeping his body loose and nonthreatening. The officer was several heads shorter than he was, not nearly as buff, and looking nervous. He didn't want to provoke him.

His phone rang and Steve tensed. He fumbled it out of his pocket and glanced at the display.  _Stark._ He wasn't going to answer that now. He swiped it to ignore. It rang again, immediately, and he swiped ignore again.

"Are you aware of why I stopped you?" The officer asked, eyes unreadable behind dark glasses. He had a pad out, and clicked a pen open.

"No sir," Steve said, it could be a variety of reasons. He didn't have a helmet on, he'd been speeding... And he might have been showing off a little for Peter, using his super reflexes to weave through the ever present traffic. He wasn't sure how long the cop had been following or what he'd seen. "Why?"

"License and registration, please," the officer said instead of answering.

"Oh, uh," Steve fumbled for his wallet. He had a SHIELD employee card, but there were still problems with a lot of his ID. Dead men couldn't get driver's licenses, especially ones who had been dead for seventy years. SHIELD was working on it, but it seemed like the paperwork was endless. "I don't exactly-"

Peter's phone shrieked and the boy almost fell off the bike. 

"Shut that off, son," the cop said.

"Yessir," Peter nodded and slung off his backpack. "Sorry, I thought it was on silent-" He pulled out a thick battered rectangle and frowned at it. "It's Mr. Stark..."

"Just hit ignore for now. I'll explain why you're late to work later," Steve grimaced.

Peter nodded, hit ignore and then powered down his phone. Steve idly wondered why Peter's phone looked like a brick when his own was slim and narrow. Peter's looked sturdier, Steve was always convinced he was going to break his. He'd ask Pepper, or maybe Stark. Pepper had said Stark had made them special for the Avengers.

"Your license-" The cop started again and then his cellphone began to wail some hard rough beat and screeching lyrics that Steve recognized as being one of Stark's favorite songs."What the... I don't even have that ring tone..."

The man pulled out his phone and glanced at it, raising his sunglasses to peer at it in confusion. He swiped ignore, but the song began again almost immediately. He frowned and answered the phone. "Hello?"

The cop frowned at the voice over the line, "Excuse me, who is this?" He put a finger to his ear. "What?" He looked up at Steve and held his phone a bit from his ear. "He says to hand the phone to you. What is going on here?"

"May I?" Steve asked flicking his eyes towards the phone, but not reaching. The man was armed, nervous and Peter was with him. He was pretty sure he knew who was on the other line.

Nonplussed, the cop handed over the phone. The voice on the other end hadn't stopped chattering the whole time, and now Steve was certain who it was.

"Stark," Steve sighed. "We'll be back at the Tower soon. Sorry I made Peter late for work."

"You won't be back if you tell that cop you don't have a license. They'll take your bike and arrest you. Just tell him who you are. None of NYC's finest  _want_ to arrest Captain America."

"I'm not going to take advantage-"

"Why not? What's the use of saving the world if you can't use it to get yourself out of a traffic stop. It's not like you were really doing anything dangerous."

"That's not the point," He glanced at the officer who was looking more irritated by the minute. "I'm hanging up."

"No, don't-"

He hung up the phone but didn't power it down. He held it out to the cop. "Sorry, he'll probably call back. I'm not very good at using these things, so I'm not sure if there is a way to block people from calling-" he cut himself off with a sigh. "Never mind, he'd find away around it." 

True to form, the phone began ringing again in Steve's hand, the same screaming music. The officer snatched it from Steve's grip and swiped ignore. It rang again before he'd completed the motion. 

"Who is this?" The cop demanded. "Do you know the penalty-"

The man froze and glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

"If this is some kind of trick-" the man started again, but was cut off by whatever manic ramble Stark was on at the other end of the line. The officer listened with a deepening look of concentration overtaking his features.

"Sir," the cop said to Steve, "Do you have and identification on you?"

"I have these," Steve took out his SHIELD ID, and the Stark Industries consultant pass all the Avengers had that let them use any of the SI faculties, like the cafeteria, the masseuse on seventeen or the copy shop.

The man looked them over first a casual glance over them, then he shifted the phone at his ear to his shoulder, bending his neck awkwardly to pin it together. He brought the cards up to his nose as if looking for tampering. He rubbed a thumb and then the nail of his index finger across the pictures and names, trying to rub them off.

"So you're Captain Steve Rogers, aka Captain America?" The man asked.

"Yes," Steve nodded. 

"And who is that supposed to be?" The cop asked, voice tight with derision, gesturing to Peter as he handed back the cards. "Hawkeye or Black Widow?"

"That's Peter Parker," Steve answered with a frown, "he's an intern at Stark Industries and I was just giving him a ride to work."

"Why don't you have a helmet on?" The cop asked, still holding his phone open.

"I only have one," Steve shrugged apologetically. "I thought it was safer that Peter wore it. I'd be more likely to recover from a head injury."

"Would this count?" Peter asked innocently, his face a mask of helpfulness. "I found it in the saddlebags." He held out the rigid cowl of Steve's Captain America suit.

"Let me see that," The officer said snatching it out of Peter's hand. "What is this, a  Halloween replica?"

"No sir," Steve said, glancing at Peter who had the audacity to wink at him. "Though it is my backup helmet. I keep a spare suit in the bags, just in case."

The officer gave him a suspicious look. "Please step away from the bike."

Steve and Peter shuffled onto the sidewalk and the cop bent towards the bags after depositing the facemask on the handlebars. "Do you consent to my search?" He asked with his hands already on the bag.

"Of course, Officer," Steve answered, teeth grinding around his polite smile. "I don't have anything to hide."

The officer glared at him and set his phone (still open, and from what it sounded like, with Stark still keeping a steady commentary) on the pavement. He reached in and pulled out the carefully folded bundle of his suit.

"This isn't spandex," he muttered, fingering the fabric.

"No, it's a new polymer Mr. Stark came up with," Peter enthused. "It's like Kevlar, on _steroids._ Puncture resistant to weapons like knives, but it also spreads and disburses force so the impact of projectiles like bullets can't penetrate or-"

"Holy shit," the man blinked, "You really are Captain America." He dropped the suit like it burned him, letting it slither back into the saddlebag of the bike.

"I told you!" Stark's voice shouted up from the phone.

"I'm so sorry, sir," the officer babbled, eyes wide and suddenly boyish. "I have a complete run of your comics."

"Um," Steve shifted uncomfortably. "That's nice?" He wondered if he should tell the officer that he didn't have anything to do with the comics. Probably not.

"I don't know how I can apologize," the officer continued. "I never would have- If I knew."

"You were just doing your job," Steve assured him, feeling horribly guilty. "Do you need to give me a ticket for the helmet?"

"No, no, I couldn't. I mean, I was there at the Battle-" The cop fell over himself to assure Steve there would be no ticket, tucking his little booklet out of the way, and stumbling back as it Steve might try to take it and write out his own ticket. "Just wear that, um, other thing." The cop gestured to the face mask on the handlebar. "And, uh, try to keep to the speed limit."

"Of course," Steve nodded. "Don't forget your phone." 

"Oh, right, yeah - Holy hell was I talking to Tony Stark? For real?"

"Still are, I think," Peter said looking at the phone the cop snatched from the ground. 

"Damn right," Stark's tinny voice wisped out of the phone. Reflexively the cop pressed end on the phone.

"Hell, I just hung up on Iron Man." The cop stared wide-eyed at the phone.

"I don't think he'll mind," Steve sighed. "So we're okay to go now? Peter is late for his shift."

"Sure, yeah, okay," the cop babbled then began patting his pockets, "Only could I maybe..."

"I've got something you can write on," Peter grinned, pulling out his notebook. He tugged a pen out of the spiral binding and handed it to Steve.

"Yes, that please. I mean, autograph?" The officer stepped forward eagerly. 

"Name?" Steve asked and tried to ignore Peter's gleeful grin. The officer gave his name, accepted the autograph and then had Peter take a picture of Steve and himself before letting them go. Steve felt horrible, like he'd bullied his way out of the ticket and he hadn't even done anything but admit to being Steve Rogers.

It only took them another five minutes to get to the Tower, and it somehow made it all worse that they had been so close.

"Sorry for making you late, Pete. I'll make sure that Stark knows it wasn't your fault."

"I think he knows," Peter bounced as he hopped off the bike and handed Steve his helmet back. "Thanks for the ride anyway," Peter grinned and then looked down at his feet, grin fading. "And uh, for helping to get back my tablet."

"I didn't really do anything," Steve said shucking off his cowl and placing it back into the saddlebag. The boy shrugged and ducked his head. "Peter?"

"Um, canyou _please_ nottellMr.Stark?" Peter asked.

"About the tablet?" Steve asked once he'd deciphered the breathless request.

"About any of it, the uh, bullying, I mean." The boy's ears were red and he wouldn't meet Steve's eyes. "He wouldn't understand. He'd think I was a complete," he paused, visibly censoring himself, "wimp."

"He wouldn't," Steve assured him, laying heavy reassuring hands on his shoulders. "You aren't. We both know that. Peter," he shook the boy's shoulders to make him look up, "it is not your fault those boys torment you. That's on them, not you."

"But-" Peter started.

"No, I know I told you to stand up for yourself, and you should. But it's not because you're a wimp or aren't strong or you have to prove anything. Peter, you are so much stronger, so much better than they are, even if you do nothing. What they are doing is wrong and they are at fault, not you. Never you."

He poked Peter in the chest. "I don't know how long this has been going on, but you haven't lost your sense of humor, or your drive, or your sense of right or wrong. You haven't let them break you. You've survived, and stayed true to the person your aunt and uncle wanted you to be. That's something to be proud of. You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of! Nothing!"

Peter was looked up at him, his face a mix of confusion and pride. "But, um... you won't tell him?"

"No," Steve sighed, "but only because he'd probably do something stupid."

"And embarrassing," Peter agreed, "He's the one who set up that song in the finder app, isn't he?"

"Yes," Steve sighed. "How did you guess?"

"Not exactly your style."

Steve smiled. "C'mon, let's get inside." He slung a companionable arm around Peter's shoulders. "I have to apologize for making you late."

"It is totally your fault," Peter agreed. "I can't believe you jinxed us like that."

"Sorry, I'll try not to do it again."

Peter threw his hands in the air as they walked into the building through the garage entrance. "You can't say that! You probably just jinxed us again! OMG!"

"That's his new codename "Captain Jinx." Or should it just be "The Jinx?" Stark spread his hands as if imagining a marquee. "We'd need a new costume."

_Jinxed is right,_ Steve thought lagging back a little when he saw the man waiting in the garage elevator vestibule. 

"What would that even look like?" Peter mused with a grin. "Oh, I know all black... with a big yellow caution sign on the chest, with a picture of a guy tripping on it."

"And epaulets, can't have a captain-suit without epaulets," Stark said with mock seriousness.

"So we're going with "Captain Jinx" then?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, then we can keep the "Cap" nickname, less confusing."

"Well, then there should be shoulder tassels," Peter tried to swallow a laugh and ended up making a strange snerking noise instead. "In gold."

"He wouldn't be happy without spangles," Stark agreed. "Would you, Cap?"

Steve sighed, convinced now that Peter was right about the whole 'jinx' thing. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Yes, a lot of it, but I couldn't because my  _only_ intern was being held up by the cops."

"One cop," Peter helpfully pointed out. "And I think I was free to go at any time, they just wanted Mr. Rogers."

"Who doesn't?" Stark quipped with an eye roll.

"What?" Steve blinked.

"What?" Stark shrugged. "And why don't you have a driver's license? Is that why you didn't want a car?"

"You don't have a license?" Peter gasped. "Wow, that would have been more than just a ticket. And you said no to a car? Why would you say no to a car? Is it a company car?" He looked up at Stark. "Can  _I_ have a car? I'm an employee."

"Sure," Stark shrugged. "We'll go pick one out-"

"Stark!" Steve barked. "He can't drive, it's illegal." May would kill them.

"Pot," Stark said to Peter, dropping an arm around his shoulder, "I'd like you to meet Kettle." He gestured to Steve.

"Funny," Steve ground out.

"I think so," Stark said, leaning on Peter with a shit-eating grin. "Mr. "Moral and Self-Righteous" breaking the law, in the company of a minor no less."

"I've passed a driving test and the written test," Steve sighed, being around Stark made him so _tired,_ too tired to even protest the self-righteous part. "But my license is held up in red tape, all of my identification is. Being dead for seventy years tends to cause a lot of paperwork."

"But you've been 'alive' for more than a year," Stark frowned.

"I was classified for half of that, and well," Steve shrugged, "every time I ask SHIELD says they're working on it."

"Well there's the problem right there, trusting SHIELD to do anything right." Stark pressed the button for the elevator.

"Who else was I supposed to ask for help?" Steve asked with a scowl. Stark seemed to delight in making him feel stupid.

"Oh, I don't know," Stark said throwing hands wide as he walked backwards into the elevator, "maybe the guy with an entire high end, expert, legal department on speed dial?" He paused. "I wonder if Thor is having problems with his documentation? Is it harder for a God or a zombie to get driver's license?" He waved a hand. "Never mind, rhetorical question. JARVIS, let Pepper know about Captain Jinx's legal issue-"

"Doesn't Miss Potts have enough to do already?" Steve followed him into the elevator, Peter a silent but fascinated companion. The elevator started up to the labs.

"It's not like she's going to do it herself. She's the CEO, she'll delegate," Stark shrugged. "It's what she does, it's the sign of an excellent manager."

"Thank you," Steve gritted out. "That's kind of you to offer someone else's time and effort without consulting them." He regretted the words as soon as they were out. Stark always managed to press every button he had.

"Sorry for trying to help, Captain Grumpypants,"  Stark sniffed, crossing his arms defensively. "I still haven't heard a "thank you" for helping you out of that traffic stop."

"I didn't ask to be helped," Steve said and decided he was officially out of control of his mouth. "I didn't want to be. It's not right to get out of tickets just because of who you are. If you do wrong, you should be willing to accept the consequences. I was."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Sorry, let me apologize for preventing your bike from being impounded, stopping you from getting a massive fine, and possibly going to jail. My bad."

"And don't do it again," Peter said in a surprisingly good imitation of his aunt. He wagged a finger. "Think about what you did Mr. Anthony Stark," he continued in a lofty tone, "and next time only help people who  _ask_ to be helped!" He waved his hands in the air. "What is the world coming to? People helping people just out of the goodness of their hearts? The Daily Bugle says that's a sign of the Apocalypse, you know! Just like that nasty Spider-man!" 

Steve glanced at Stark, sure his own face was as slack with surprise as the engineer's. Stark burst out laughing and clapped Peter on the back.

"You've got balls, Bambi," Stark laughed, curling his hand around the back of the boy's neck and pulling him forward. "Jesus," he wheezed, leaning his forehead against the boy's in a brief embrace.

"Stark," Steve admonished, and then shook his head when the two of them turned nearly identical looks of chagrin at him. They both looked like they expected a smack in the face.

"Sorry," he apologized, feeling like an ass. "Thanks for trying to help."

"No problem," Stark said as the doors opened to the lab floors. He guided Peter out. "I know it was a tough day for you, you actually went out side and  _spoke to people._ That always puts you in a mood."

"It does not," Steve said automatically. "And I go outside every day."

"Yeah for a run to Central Park and back," Stark rolled his eyes. "Do a lot of conversing with other people there before you head back?" The elevator doors started to close.

"How do you know where I go anyway?" Steve held out a hand to keep the doors from closing. "How did you even know I'd been stopped by the police?"

"How do you know if I eat my veggies or not?" Stark shot back. "Turn about is fair play!"

"Are we actually going to do some work today?" Bruce asked from inside the lab. "We've only got Peter for about an hour and a half more."

"Sorry Big Green," Stark said turning away from the elevator, "Be there in a mo."

"Dr. Banner!" Peter scrambled for his backpack. "I remembered my tablet today!"

"Really," Bruce's eyes flickered to Stark and Steve before he broke into a small smile, "That's great, make sure you don't forget it again."

Peter glanced at Steve. "I'll do my best," he promised.

"Go upload the latest data," Bruce instructed and Peter dropped his bag on a chair and went over to one of the terminals. "Going to come in and observe today, Steve?" Bruce asked nodding at the hand still keeping the elevator open.

Steve glanced at his hand, and uncurled it. "Oh, uh, no. Thanks. Bye Peter, Bruce... Stark." The elevator started to close.

"Bye _Rogers,"_ Stark snapped, hands in his pockets. "Have fun hiding in your quarters."

"Tony," Steve heard Bruce admonish as the doors sealed shut.

The elevator seemed tiny and quiet on the ride up to his floor. His gym seemed almost too big as he hurried through it into his small apartment. 

"JARVIS, could you play some music or something?" Steve asked feeling both claustrophobic and exposed. It was too damn quiet in here.

"Of course," JARVIS said, "Any preferences?"

"Nothing new," Steve shook his head. "Anything."

Something classical began to tinkle through the room, and Steve's shoulders relaxed a hair.

Out of habit rather than any real hunger, Steve moved to the icebox and pulled out the fixings for a sandwich. He put it together, and turned to put the lunch meat away. He closed the door and found himself staring at the flyer for the art group on the fridge. He took it down and stared at it for a long time as he mechanically worked his way through his sandwich.

He left it laying on the table when he went into the living room picked up his sketchbook. Instead of drawing he just slowly paged through it, not really seeing the sketches on the page.

"Excuse me," JARVIS dimmed the music as he spoke, "Dr. Banner wishes to know if you will be joining them for the Disney screening tonight. I believe the next in line is the _The Black Cauldron_."

"No, thank you," Steve said, knowing he was not fit company for others tonight. "Tell them I went to bed early." He closed this sketch book, let his head loll back against the couch back. His eyes drifted shut. His mother had liked classical music, he could almost believe he was back in their old cold-water flat if the music wasn't so clear and crisp.

"Of course, Captain," JARVIS said.

His phone chimed several times with messages, one each from Thor, Bruce and Pepper, and several from Stark. He ignored them and didn't end up going to bed for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been so patient waiting for this chapter. It will honestly not be another month before the next chapter is up. I've got a bunch of it written already :) And THANK YOU for every comment and kudos on AO3, like and reblog on tumblr, and any and all comments and asks. They really make my day. My ask box is always open, feel free to drop me a note, question, suggestion, complaint or correction. I don't have a beta, so feel free to point out mistakes.


	13. Tick Tock

“Here,” Pepper said sliding a large manila envelope across the table. “Feeling better?”

“Better?” Steve repeated, looking at the packet with a furrow between his brows.

“You weren’t at the movies the other night,” Pepper cocked her head. “Bruce said you were tired. And you canceled on our morning lessons two days in a row. That isn’t like you.” She gestured to the packet. “You should be safe for the road now.”

“What?” Steve opened the packet and slid the contents onto the table. A passport, a New York state driver’s license, a motorcycle registration, and insurance cards spread out in front of him.

“Stark told you?” Steve asked, his stomach churning.

“Yes. I wish you would have told me, I could have gotten this handled much sooner.” She plucked the driver’s license up and handed it to him. “I hope you don’t mind that I had them use your Stark consultant picture for, well, everything.”

“No, no…” Steve said taking the license from her. “This is great.”

“You don’t sound pleased,” Pepper pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, did I overstep? I thought this would be helpful.”

“It is,” Steve said and took out his wallet to put the license in it. “I’m just sorry you were bothered with it. I told Stark that SHIELD was handling it.”

“Not very well,” Pepper huffed, sliding the rest of the papers back in the envelope. “It should have been done months ago. They weren’t particularly happy about Stark Industries butting in, but I got the impression it had just been forgotten about.”

“Oh,” Steve said, taking the envelope that proved he was indeed alive and allowed by all legal authority to exist in this century. “But still, ” he felt his shoulders hunch and he looked down at the table, “Stark shouldn’t have made it your problem.”

“Steve,” Pepper slid her chair around next to him, laying a hand on his arm, “that’s kind of you, but it wasn’t really a problem. If you have any other issues like that, please bring them to me.”

“Miss Potts,” Steve said, “Stark already dumps so much on you, I don’t want to add-“

“Captain.” Pepper’s voice was sharp, and slid through him like a knife. Her hand on his arm tightened. “Mr. Stark was looking after team interests. Having to bail you out of jail for driving without a license with a minor on board would have been horrendous negative publicity not only for you as Captain America but for SHIELD, Stark Industries, and the Avengers. I’d much rather combat this kind of issue before it becomes a problem.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Steve said, because Pepper was mad, he’s not sure what it was that set her off, and being polite usually helped in that kind of situation.

“And if I have a problem with anything that Mr. Stark may “dump” on me, believe me that he would hear about it and I would deal with it. I’m not a delicate flower that needs protecting, Captain.”

“I know that,” Steve protested weakly, “I just think-“

“No, Captain, I think that you were neither “knew that” nor were you thinking about me,” Pepper frowned.

“I’m sorry?” Steve asked, feeling a wave of exhaustion threaten to swamp him. He’d spent the past two days in bed or in his sitting room chair, mostly asleep. He’d assumed it was some strange serum thing, finally catching up on all the sleep he didn’t usually bother getting. Maybe he needed the normal eight hours regular people did after all.

“I know Tony can be hard to manage, but why can’t you accept- Steve? Are you listening-“

Pepper’s voice was distant as he struggled to focus. Or, maybe it was like he’d feared after dragging himself to bed after sleeping the day away in his chair, perhaps his enhanced metabolism was finally wearing his human body down. That being the case he knew he should have called SHIELD or a doctor or maybe Bruce to check him out. He hadn’t had the energy to care. He figured JARVIS would probably call someone if he really needed medical care.

He’d woken up today with a little bit of energy and decided to go on his run, his quarters starting to feel claustrophobic. Pepper had been waiting for him when he got back, pulling him into the conference room Thor and he usually took their lessons in. He wished he’d stayed in bed as the familiar feeling of exhaustion weighed him down.

“Captain?” Pepper’s voice had lost its edge, “Steve?” He hand gripped his shoulder.

“What?” Steve blinked, had he fallen asleep at the table? 

“I’m sorry?” he repeated, and he could feel his cheeks warm under a blush.

Suddenly Pepper was in his space much closer than he was used to as she peered into his eyes.

“I thought you couldn’t get sick,” she pressed her hand onto his forehead like his mother used to when checking for a fever.

“I’m fine,” Steve said pulling back and feeling his ears warm. “Just a little tired.”

“Haven’t you been sleeping?” Pepper asked. “Insomnia?”

“No, no, I’ve been sleeping fine,” Steve said with a yawn. “Better than usual. I figure maybe I’m just catching up.” His eyes felt gritty with the need to sleep. He rubbed at an eye with a knuckle. “I think maybe I slept too much? Now I can’t seem to wake up.”

“Maybe you should talk to Bruce,” Pepper suggested, face pinched with concern, her earlier anger gone, “or someone at SHIELD?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shook his head to try and shake himself awake. “Really.”

“You fell asleep as I was talking to you! That’s not normal,” Pepper frowned. “JARVIS, medical scan?”

“That’s really not necessary-” Steve tried to protest.

“Captain Rogers is currently in no immediate danger,” JARVIS said promptly. “All bodily functions, heart rate, blood pressure, core body temperature, et al, are in line with the medical baseline provided by SHIELD medical.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve began, feeling vindicated.

“However,” JARVIS continued, interrupting Steve, “Captain Rogers has spent only 8 of the past 48 hours awake, which is an extreme anomaly within his usual sleep schedule. He has also only consumed a third of his normal caloric intake.”

“So loss of appetite? Fatigue?” Pepper ticked off symptoms. “Anything else?”

“It’s nothing,” Steve insisted. “I wasn’t hungry,” Steve shrugged, glaring at the red dot that was JARVIS’s one obvious eye in the room, feeling betrayed, “probably because I haven’t been active. And everyone gets tired sometimes.”

He hadn’t really, not since the serum. The only time he remembered having this bone deep weariness was after Bucky had fallen. But that time he couldn’t sleep despite the tiredness. He had tried to drown his exhaustion in alcohol only to be betrayed by his metabolism.

Pepper stared at him, but spoke to the building’s AI. “JARVIS? Anything else?”

“Captain Rogers usually keeps a rigid schedule consisting of the following: sustenance, exercise, sustenance, study, checking his contacts, sustenance, more exercise, sustenance, and usually a leisure activity in the evening, usually reading or drawing, before sustenance and then rest.” The AI paused. “However, in the past three days since his excursion with young Parker, Captain Rogers has eschewed his schedule completely. He has not participated in any other activities other than occasionally obtaining food and sleeping.”

“Not even checking in with SHIELD?” Pepper raised an eyebrow. Her brow furrowed, “Did you even realize we had an appointment today? JARVIS, did he hear my message?”

“I’m not required to check in with SHIELD every day,” Steve said mulishly, feeling like Pepper was accusing him of something but he wasn’t sure what. “And JARVIS told me you left a message.” He hadn’t listened to it, only telling JARVIS to cancel his morning lessons again, figuring that had been the purpose of the message.

“No, Captain Rogers has not listened to his messages since returning to his quarters Monday afternoon.”

“See,” Steve said, “It hasn’t been that long. JARVIS would have told me if anything was urgent-“

“Steve,” Pepper said leaning forward in her chair, “It’s Thursday. It’s been three days.”

“It’s Wednesday,” Steve corrected. “Isn’t it?” He frowned, trying to remember what he’d done in the past day or so, he couldn’t have slept that long.

“I think we need to talk to Bruce,” Pepper said, standing. “JARVIS, will you tell Dr. Banner we’re coming up to-“

“No!” Steve said, leaping up so quickly that his chair spun out from behind him and smacked into the wall.

“There’s no need to bother Bruce. I’m fine,” he insisted, his ears were hot, his fair skin betraying his embarrassment as usual. “What can Bruce tell us that JARVIS hasn’t? I was just tired and got turned around. It’s easy when you live in a room that doesn’t have real windows.”

He distinctly remembered asking JARVIS to dim the fake “daylight” that usually streamed into his mock windows. That was probably what had gotten him so mixed up, and the told Pepper so.

“Steve,” Pepper said with an exasperated wrinkle to her brow, “You understand that you aren’t bothering any of us when you need help?”

She gestured to the manila packet, “Just adjusting to a new time would be hard for anyone, and only more so someone adjusting to life in the future after two wars, one against aliens and gods. There is no shame in needing a little boost from your friends. We all want to help you, even if it’s just someone to talk to.”

“That’s kind of you,” Steve said stiffly, his body tight with tension as he tried not to show how tired this all was making him, “but unnecessary. Please don’t interrupt Bruce with this. He’s not even a medical doctor, you know. He has a PHD not an MD.”

Pepper sighed, deflating a little from her usual ramrod posture. She waved a her hand a little limply. “I know, but he’s pretty well versed from his travels. I thought you might appreciate talking to a friend. But I really think you need to talk to somebody, maybe not the kind of doctor you’re used to-“

“Are you talking about a therapist or a psychologist?” Steve cut her off. “I know what those are,” he said irritably. “We had them in the forties too. SHIELD had me see several of both, and cleared me for duty.”

“Before or after the Incident?” Pepper asked.

“Both,” Steve shrugged. They had recommended he continue seeing the counselor they’d forced him to talk to on the SHIELD base when he’d lived there, but it hadn’t been a requirement. “I’m fine, Pepper.”

“Cleared for duty is different than fine,” she said. “I really think-” Her watch chimed at her and her frown deepened when she tapped it to shut off the alarm. “I have a meeting, but I think we should talk about this more. If you don’t like the SHIELD doctors-“

“Go to your meeting, Miss Potts,” Steve said firmly, using his “Captain America” voice. “I promise I won’t laze another day away. Happy?”

“That’s not what this is about-” Pepper shook her head. “Steve, I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” he spread his hands, “I was just tired.”

Pepper looked him over. “You’re not tired any more?”

“No,” Steve lied, “I’ll be right back to my normal routine.”

She cast him a look like she didn’t believe him. “We aren’t doing movies tonight because Tony and I have a late SI meeting we can’t get out of. But tomorrow night we were hoping to start up again-“

“I have plans,” Steve blurted. He didn’t want to be trapped in the Family room with everyone he’d been actively ignoring for two, no, three days. He still hadn’t even listened to Bruce’s message. (Messages? He’d lost track.)

“Plans?” Pepper sounded disbelieving. “With who?”

“Nobody, exactly,” Steve said and resisted the urge to hunch his shoulders and look at his feet like he used to when he was smaller.

“What are your plans then?” Pepper asked and her bland smile revealed her suspicion more than any frown.

“Art Jam!” Steve said, and when Pepper looked confused he explained about the art store, the friendly store clerk and her invitation.

“I missed the last one,” he said.

“Oh,” Pepper’s expression cleared and she smiled a more normal “Pepper” smile, “I think that’s great! I didn’t know you were an artist! Do you need a ride? Happy can take you-“

“No, no,” Steve said quickly, picking up the packet and waving it. “I’m all set now to go on my own. Thanks to you,” he nodded his head at her, “So, um, thanks.”

“No problem, Steve, really,” Pepper chirped. “We should talk sometime. Did you know I curate Tony’s art collection?”

“I didn’t know Stark had an art collection,” Steve blinked.

“Well, it’s much smaller now,” Pepper’s tone was wry, “He donated it to the Boy Scouts of America a while back, but we’re rebuilding. It’s mostly Modern art, are you familiar with the Modern Art movements?”

“Not very,” Steve said feeling his shoulders hunch, “I have a book on oils that talked about some of the movements, but-“

“I’ll have some books sent up,” Pepper said happily, bouncing a little. “And next time SI gets tickets to something at the MOMA, perhaps I’ll wrangle you into a tux instead of Tony.”

Before he could protest, JARVIS smoothly interrupted. “Ms. Potts, the guests for your eight o’clock have arrived at the building.”

“Oh!” Pepper brought long fingers up to her mouth, “Thanks for the reminder! I’d best get going! Have fun at your Art-Jam. I’ll have those books delivered later. I definitely want to see some of your work!”

Steve was relieved to see her moving towards the door. Once the door had closed behind her, Steve sent a glare at the camera in the corner. “JARVIS, we need to have a discussion about privacy, and how not to invade it.”

“The information relayed to Miss Potts is similar to the information requested about members of the Avengers Initiative by yourself. Should I ignore such requests in the future?”

“I- You,” Steve sputtered. “Shut up.”

“Of course, Captain. Shutting up.”

::0::0::

All he wanted to do when he got back to his room was fall into bed. Instead he forced himself to eat and then went about his normal exercise routine. He was convinced JARVIS would rat him out to Pepper, which was a scary thought. Pepper, he was sure, was not above dirty tricks to get what she wanted. He was positive he’d be facing a horde of therapists on his floor like he had Stark’s horde of realtors.

He forcibly kept to his normal schedule through the day and into the evening. He fell into bed a little earlier than normal, but he figured it was safe. He just wanted to fall back into that oblivion of sleep, didn’t he deserve a little rest?

Apparently the heavens disagreed with him. He languished in bed, trying to force his body to relax and just let go. He couldn’t get comfortable. The bed was too warm, but when he kicked back the blankets he got chilled. The bed seemed too small when he laid on his back, but his back felt exposed when he turned on his side despite the fact that no one could possibly enter the room.

Finally he gave up, throwing off the blankets and sheets that had been twined around him and padding into the living room.

“Lights up, JARVIS,” he said, and the lights came up slowly.

He sighed and looked at his bookshelf for something to read. The options were slim, the art books he’d gotten from the store, a few dry and impartial history tomes he and Thor used as primers in their early classes with Pepper, a Bible. He hesitated over the last. He wasn’t a particularly religious man but reading over Noah’s family tree after the flood in Genesis or reading over Chronicles and the lists of names of who begat who was a sure way to numb the mind back into sleep.

He sighed and slumped into his chair and picked up his sketchbook and pencils. He stared at a blank page, twirling a pencil around between two fingers, inspiration dry.

“JARVIS,” Steve said, “Please play my messages.”

“CAPTAIN!” Thor’s voice bellowed, making Steve jump.

“You don’t have to shout,” Barton’s voice floated from the background. “Just talk normally.”

“Was I not?” Thor asked, tone modulated into more normal ranges. “I apologize. Dear Captain,” he began again, “Your presence at tonight’s fest is greatly missed. I wished to assure you we shall not progress through the chronicles of the master storyteller Disney without your companionship. We shall find other entertainment tonight. I wish you a good rest Captain, and hope to see you on the morrow. That is all House Spirit, you may cease your recording.”

“Shall I save or delete the recording, sir?”

“Save it,” Steve said automatically. He saved all his messages. It was unnecessary, he’d remember it verbatim. But he felt like he should if he could. “Save all messages.”

“Of course, Captain. Next message,” JARVIS informed him.

“You big baby,” Stark snarked, sounding slightly muffled, “Now everyone is pissed at me because you’re being Captain Emo. I hope you’re happy.”

Steve sighed rubbing at his forehead. He shouldn’t get headaches anymore, but it felt like Stark was trying to test that theory.

“Saved message. Next message,” JARVIS said.

“Steve,” Pepper’s voice chirped on the line. “Tony told me about your ID problem. I let legal know and they should have something for us by the end of the week. I’m really disappointed with SHIELD that they’ve dragged it out so long. We miss you down here tonight. Tony and Clint thought it would be funny to introduce Thor to the X-files, a TV show about a FBI agent trying to prove that aliens exist. It’s going about as well as you’d expect. See you tomorrow morning.”

Steve felt his lips quirk.

“Saved message. Next message.”

“You’re missing out, Deep Freeze,” Stark said cheerfully, “Bet sitting alone in your room is SO much more fun than spending time with your team and ignoring my messages.”

“Tony, who are you calling?” Someone, Steve was pretty sure it was Bruce, asked in the background. It was hard to tell, it was so faint. Stark must’ve used his cell instead of JARVIS to call.

“Nobody important,” Stark said and the message ended.

“Saved message. Next message.”

“Steve,” Bruce’s voice was cautious, “I just wanted to say I was glad you found a way to get Peter his tablet back…and see how you’re doing. I’m sorry if Tony made you feel unwelcome at the movies, I know that wasn’t his intention. Maybe we can go to lunch sometime…there’s a new Ethiopian place in the Rebuild. Call me anytime, I’m usually free when Peter’s not here. Goodnight.”

“Saved message. Next message.”

“So Bruce, who is a big weepy woman, oh my god, said I should apologize to you. I don’t even know why, I didn’t do anything. Except, you know, keep you from going to jail.” Stark paused and Steve almost thought he’d hung up when he continued. “So, you know, you should come watch movies tomorrow, or Pepper and Bruce are gonna both be looking at me with puppy eyes. Their puppy eyes are worse than yours.” There was a pause, “Okay, maybe not that bad, but there are two of them. That should count for something.”

“I don’t think he actually apologized,” Steve said aloud. “I didn’t miss it, did I?”

“Shall I replay the message?” JARVIS replied, droll.

“No, thanks,” Steve said, rolling his eyes, idly sketching on his pad. ”Are there more?”

The doodle was starting to form into cartoon Stark, in a snazzy suit, talking on his cell. “Blah, blah, blah, blah,” Steve mouthed as he wrote the word over and over around the cartoon like an aura.

“Yes, two from Ms. Potts, two from Dr. Banner, three more from Sir.”

The ones from Pepper are status reports on his ID, with the second one letting him know they were ready. Bruce’s first message was an invitation to the Ethiopian place for lunch that day. The second was a comment saying he’d gone with Barton and Romanov instead, and it hadn’t been very good. But he had heard of an Argentinian steakhouse that might be more Steve’s speed and he’d call again when he planned to go.

Steve added to his doodle as he listened. He drew a harried looking Pepper running behind Stark, barely warding off the “Blahs” surrounding him with a stack of papers. He added in Bruce in his lab coat, tablet in hand, poking at one of the “blahs” curiously. After a second thought he added a small Peter peeking out from behind Bruce. He drew the boy petting one of the “blahs” like a puppy.

His lips quirked even as JARVIS played Stark’s messages. All of which had insulting nicknames, exhortations for him to come to the nightly meetings in the Family room, threats of Steve disappointing Thor, Bruce and Pepper, and talked around apologies without actually offering one.

Steve added a cartoony Romanov chopping an encroaching “Blah” with a hand, and a Barton on windowsill leveling an arrow at a “Blah” that was coming too close. He added Thor, who he drew laughing surrounded with a long tail of ha-ha-ha’s tangling with Stark’s “Blahs” to make a few “Blah-ha-has”

Lastly he added a little monkey him, in his Cap costume, hiding under his shield. He buried the monkey under an avalanche of “Blahs.”

“End of messages,” JARVIS intoned. “Would you like to reply any of the messages?”

“No, thanks JARVIS.” Steve yawned and set down his sketchbook. “I think I’m going to head back to bed.”

::0::0::

Steve felt like he was going into battle. His heart was racing, and his muscles twitched with the desire to move and throw and run.

He stood across the street from the coffee shop, Tick-Tock… or if you believed the sign with it’s half-burnt out neon, it was called the Tic-Ocl. He checked his watch, it was about five minutes before the art-jam was scheduled to start. He shifted nervously and wondered if it would be better to be early or late. If he was early he could get some early re-con, see who he was dealing with and get the lay of the land. If he was late he could slip in, blend, see what the situation was. He could see what was expected of people in an art jam.

This isn’t a fight. There aren’t enemies in there. This will be fun.

Steve took a deep breath, clutching his sketchbook under his arm and his pencil case banging in his pocket. All he had to do was cross the street. He looked at his feet, willing them to move.

“Steve! Hey! Hey!”

Steve jumped and almost fell into traffic.

“Oh, yay! It is you!” Allison jogged up to him, a large rucksack bouncing against her back. “Great! I’m so glad you came!”

“Allison,” Steve couldn’t help a small smile at her enthusiasm. “Hello.”

“Hello, he says,” She punched his arm. “I haven’t seen you at the store for over a month, and you didn’t come to the last meeting. I thought I’d scared you off.” She danced around like a boxer, miming punches at his shoulder. “But you’re here! Yay!”

Steve mock cringed away, “Not for long if you keep attacking me.”

“Oh, and you clean up nice!” She looked him up and down. “Fancy!”

Swallowing, Steve straightened up and smoothed down his tie. He tugged at the sleeves to the jacket. Stark laughed at his button down shirts, and Barton always asked why he wanted to be strangled with a tie if he didn’t need to be. But this was how a fella was supposed to dress, it was how he felt comfortable.

“Too much?” Steve asked, trying to hide his anxiety under a smile.

It wasn’t as if he noticed that people didn’t usually dress this way, but he still wasn’t quite sure of how he was supposed to. Banner wore shoes that looked like lady’s slippers to him, that couldn’t be normal. Barton and Romanov wore their SHIELD uniforms most of the time, and lived in workout clothes, or what looked like them, otherwise. Thor was not to be taken as an example. Stark either wore ridiculously fancy suits or looked like a resident of a Hooverville. SHIELD hadn’t put modern fashion together in a briefing folder, and none of Pepper’s classes had touched on it. For a brief moment he wondered if he should have taken Stark’s advice to have Pepper take him shopping.

“You’re seriously asking me?” Allison gestured to herself and her ensemble. She had just as much a riot of color going on as she had the first time they’d met. This time she work a pair of thick stockings with pocket watch patches stitched onto the knees. She wore denim shorts that were almost hidden over the over-sized shirt with a rabbit in a tabard printed in rainbow shimmer on the front. She had on her bangles and mesh gloves and about fifteen necklaces around her neck clattering with over-sized stars and stylized keys. She'd left off the chain to her nose, instead replacing it with a little rabbit stud.

Taking his silence as his answer, Allison slipped her arm through his and tugged him across the street. “Why haven’t you been back to the store?”

“I haven’t used half the stuff I bought,” Steve shrugged, allowing himself to be led.

“Oh, like that’s an excuse not to buy more art supplies!” Allison said breezily as she pushed their way into the coffee shop.

“Says the pusher to the addict,” a deep laughing voice on the other side of the door.

“Paul!” Allison squealed and let go of Steve to throw her arms wide in a leaping hug at the beanpole of a man leaning against the barista counter. “Yay! Great! You can meet Steve!”

“Oof,” Paul huffed through a neatly trimmed beard, using one long arm to hold Allison to his waist and the other hand to keep his fedora on his head. “You act like it’s a shock, I’m here every time.”

“But usually you’re late!” Allison said pulling back. “Now meet Steve!”

“Hi Steve,” Paul said with a grin holding out a hand. “I’m Paul, Paul Kowalski.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said, staring up at him. There weren’t many people taller than he was, and Paul was nearly a head above him. “Nice hat.” He hadn’t seen anyone in anything other than a ball cap among the SHIELD agents at the Hellicarrier. He'd thought they'd completely gone out of style. It even had a little feather in the brim!

“Nice tie,” Paul nodded and gestured to Steve’s neatly pressed pants and crisp shirt. “I like the vintage vibe, man.”

“I know!” Allison gushed. “Isn’t Meg just going to love him?”

“Thanks?” Steve said baffled.

There was a slight cough behind Paul. “Isn’t Meg going to love who?”

“Meg! Meet Steve!” Allison called. “Paul, out of the way!” She shoved at Paul bodily out of the way. “You make a better wall then you do a window, you giant.”

Once Paul was shoved into the wall, a pretty girl in polka-dot dress (with a petticoat!) stepped up. “Hi, Steve, I’m Meg.”

“You look like Betty Grable,” Steve burst with a blush. The girl’s lips, scarlet with lipstick, spread into a delighted smile. Her hair was bleached white-blonde and she had them done up in victory curls.

“Oh, I wish!” Meg said playing with her pearls. “Allison, where did you find him?”

“Came by the store, he’s new in town,” Allison grinned. “I just knew he was our kind of people.”

“Let me introduce you to my husband,” Meg smiled and looked over her shoulder. “Chris!”

“Coming,” a man jumped up from a table in the shop, “Coming!” He reminded Steve instantly of Stark Sr. He had dark hair, brushed back, laughing eyes and wore suspenders over his t-shirt. “Good to meet-cha. Nice tie. Repro or vintage?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Steve said looking down at it. “It was a gift.” Well, SHIELD had issued it to him, that was kind of a gift.

“Awesome either way.”

“You guys know the rules,” the barista said from behind the counter, looking bored.

“Oh, yeah,” Allison said pushing her way up to the counter. “They let us set up in here, but everyone’s got to buy something. I forgot to tell you so it’s on me tonight.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said quickly, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You sure?” Allison asked. “I don’t mind.”

“No, no,” Steve said. “I’ve got it.” He looked up at the chalkboard menu. “Uh…” The terms on the board were like gibberish to him.

“Give him one of Mexican hot chocolates,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “You’ll like it, it’s cinnamon-y.” A hand lit on his shoulder. “And give me large Chai.”

Steve looked over his shoulder and could feel his mouth falling open. “Ro-“

“Natalie Rushman,” Romanov introduced herself to the group, tossing long black hair over her shoulder. She gave a round of handshakes with a goofy smile with her mouth half open that made her look kind of… silly. “I work with Steve.” She smiled up at Steve. “I thought we were going to meet outside?”

“W-were we?” Steve stammered. “Um, sorry?”

She gave a flirty little shrug, “You can make up for it by buying my drink.” She grinned at the group. “I’m really excited about this,” she chirped, hugging a brand new sketchbook to her chest. “Steve showed me the flyer, and I invited myself along.”

“The more the better,” Paul grinned reaching over her head to pick up a coffee from the counter.

“Guys, please don’t block the entrance,” The barista sighed handing Steve the drinks Romanov ordered.

“Right, right,” Allison sniffed. “We’re going! C’mon, Steve, Natalie… we usually set up in the back.” She looked over at the barista. “I’ll have my regular, I’ll be back for it.”

“You can call me Nat,” Romanov said, giving a glance between Steve and Allison. “Everyone does, it’s easier.”

“Allison Durante,” she smiled and gestured. “This way.”

“What are you doing?” Steve hissed, furious. He’d expected to have to look for SHIELD agents, or for Stark to follow him out of the Tower again, but he hadn’t expected this.

“Backup,” Romanov muttered, too soft for anyone but a super soldier to hear. “Just follow my lead.” She smiled up at him false and Natalie-like. “Oh, yum, thanks!” She took her drink from his nerveless fingers.

“So how does this work?” Romanov asked, watching as the group dragged a couple of the smaller tables together. “I don’t really know what an art-jam is.”

“It’s kind of whatever you want it to be,” Allison said. “I organize it, but really I just wanted an excuse to hang out with creative people. I wanted to actually be creative at least once a week instead of just thinking about it.”

“So we buy coffee, sketch each other, hang out,” Meg smiled. “Or do other crafts. I actually stitch mostly.” She held up a little hoop with creamy fabric stretched over it.

“I’m working on a collage today,” Allison thumped her bag on the table. “I art journal, and I’m working on a few pages.” She spilled a collection of magazines out on the table, with some scissors and glue.

“We’re a pretty self-directed group,” Paul said pulling out a sketchbook of thick paper and a little tray of watercolor tubes. He unrolled a canvas bundle of brushes. “But if you need any help or have questions please ask. We’re always willing to crit each other’s work.”

“And Paul is actually an art teacher-” Chris began but was cut off when another chair was set down with a thud next to Romanov.

“In high school, and he’s only a student teacher.” The guy who slid into the seat just a little thick all over and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it. His hair was long and pulled back in a ponytail. He ignored Steve and smiled at Romanov. “You’re new.”

“This is Zed,” Allison sighed with no enthusiasm.

“And you are?” Zed asked Romanov, sliding his chair closer.

“Natalie Rushman,” Romanov said coolly. “I’m here with Steve.”

Zed’s attention flicked up to Steve and then back to Romanov. “So you dragged your boyfriend to our little creative circle? Not cool bringing a jock to an art party.”

“Steve is an artist,” Allison said hotly. “Quit being an ass, Zed!”

“If he did that, he wouldn’t be Zed.”

Steve turned to watch another man shamble up to the table holding a massive mug. He had a messy thatch of black curls and a scruffy beard just starting to grow in. “Don’t let Zed chase you off,” he gave a lopsided grin. “The rest of us make up for him. I’m Roman.”

“Roman!” Allison bounced in her seat. “Yay, you made it! You got time off?”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” Roman sighed and pulled up a chair. “Do you mind?” He asked Steve and then pushed his way into sitting between him and Allison before Steve could respond.

“Oh no,” Allison groaned. “You didn’t?”

“You got fired?” Meg slapped the table. “Again?”

“Fuck, man,” Chris shook his head. “How is that even possible? All you had to do was walk around and look at gauges. How do you mess that up?”

Roman waved his hand. “Can we not? Please, not in front of the newbies.”

“We’re hearing this story by the end of the night,” Paul frowned at him, “but let’s do the introductions first, Nat missed most of them.” He made the rounds starting with himself and going around the table until they got back around to Steve and Romanov.

“Cool, new people,” Roman nodded. “So can I be the first to play I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours?”

“What?” Steve blinked.

“Sketchbooks,” Roman grinned with a wink. He held up a battered black book.

“Oh, yeah,” Romanov smiled back. “Great, here.” She handed her pristine book over. “I just started. Don’t judge.”

“Never,” Roman promised and swapped with her.

He flipped it open and spent a lot of time studying the five drawings in the book. One was a page of eyes, meticulously accurate though lifeless. There were two pages of hand studies, another of feet, and the third a clumsy in progress still life.

Romanov started babbling the moment he opened the book. “I haven’t really drawn since high school. Law school didn’t leave much time. I’m just getting back into it.”

“Good start,” Roman nodded. “Nice proportions.”

“You have a good eye. Nice attention to detail. You need a bit more depth in your shading,” Paul commented, peering over the table to see. “Darker darks, more pure highlights. You need to loosen up some. I’d suggest gesture drawings.”

“Oh, yeah?” Romanov accepted back her book from Roman and thrust his at Steve without looking at what she was doing. “How does that work?” She got up and dragged her chair over next to Paul’s.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized, fumbling to keep hold of Roman’s sketchbook. “That was rude.”

“No big,” Roman shrugged. “Yours looks fuller anyway. May I?” He reached for Steve’s book.

“Of course.” Steve nodded and tried to bury his nervousness in studying Roman’s book.

The pages are crammed full and untidy. Every inch of every page was full of black ink drawings. They overlapped each other and competed for space, making it hard to distinguish where one started and the other began. One page started out as a maze of steaming dirty pipes and became a woman with vines and butterflies in her hair. Another had people, old, young, fat, skinny, all different ethnic types and shapes, and somewhere along the way it became chairs instead.

“Wow,” Steve breathed. “What kind of pen do you use?” He chased his finger over the pages lightly as if afraid it would smudge. It looked like fountain ink, but there wasn’t the familiar weight and ebb he was used to. Each line was so fine. But it also didn’t look like the ballpoint pens that were so common now.

“Nothing special, I like microns mostly,” Roman said and fished into his pocket, dropping a few pens on the table. “Some sharpies, but I don’t like the way they bleed.”

Steve filed the names away to ask JARVIS about later. Roman had said the names like he should recognize them. So far no one had realized he was “that” Steve Rogers, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“This is pretty neat,” Steve said, coming to a page that had a massive space battle in one corner and a planet-side battle in the other. “How’d you come up with this?”

It was a fantastic futuristic brawl of spaceships, like nothing he’d ever seen before. Some of them looked kind of like swans with big round disks out front and long pylon things arching out from the body of the ship. Others looked like darting little bows with fat round bodies and flat wings on the side.  
The planetscape had a full out battle dominated by men in red uniforms with funny flat little rayguns fighting white armored robots with rifles. Sprinkled through the battle were little furry troll things in cowls and tall dog-like men with gold bandoleers.

“Uh, it’s the Federation versus the Empire,” Roman said barely glancing over, his attention focused on Steve’s book. “With some rebel forces thrown in. See if you can spot Princess Leia. It’s like “Where’s Waldo” with all the Storm Troopers.”

“Who?” Steve looked up from the book, squinting in confusion. The question came out before he thought about it, and he wasn’t even sure which part he was asking about. Waldo? Leia? What Empire? Federation of what? Rebels?

“Leia,” Roman repeated. “She’s in her cinnamon buns and white dress, like when Han and Luke rescued her.”

“Yeah, no,” Romanov laughed with a wave, “Steve has never seen Star Wars.” She paused. “Or Star Trek, probably.”

There was a brief pause and then a clamor went up around the table, drowning in immediate protests.

“That’s not possible.”

“No way!”

“Seriously?”

“Reboot or original?”

“Both,” Romanov said, tucking her hair behind her ear with a shrug.

“How do you even manage to avoid both of them? They’re everywhere,”Allison raised her hands to the heavens.

Steve was doing what he was sure was fantastic impression of a fish, mouth gaping as he tried to find words to explain. He’d been shocked when Romanov had shown up, and he didn’t even know what he’d been expecting her to do. He certainly hadn’t expected her to throw him under the bus so spectacularly. He’d been pretty sure she didn’t think much of him, but he hadn’t thought she actively disliked him. Not enough to sabotage him.

The clutch of artists still stared at him, waiting for a response. His spine straightened even as his stomach sank. He cleared his throat, and tried to gauge what their reaction would be once they knew he was “Captain America” and not just Steve Rogers. It’s not that he thought they’d kick him out… but people treated him different, put him on a pedestal, at a distance. He didn’t want that.

“That’s what you get when you grow up in a bubble,” Romanov said before he could speak. “Steve was home schooled.” She paused dramatically, “His family didn’t even own a TV!”

“Seriously?” Chris said. “Harsh. What, was your family super religious or something?”

“No,” Steve said blinking, utterly confused. “Not really.”

“Then why-” Meg started.

“He was literally a bubble boy,” Romanov interrupted. “Super sick as a child. He had stuff people don’t even get anymore, like scarlet fever. Who even gets scarlet fever?”

“Ma was a nurse,” Steve said, catching on to where she was going. “It was easier for her to keep me home. Between the heart palpitations, allergies and asthma I couldn’t manage regular school.”

“You’re fucking with us,” Zed said, looking him up and down. “No way you have a bunch of things wrong with you.”

“Not anymore, obvs,” Romanov rolled her eyes. “You had that procedure when you were, what 16?”

“Yes, about there,” Steve lied. “Fixed most things, the rest I grew out of.” Which was the literal truth.

“I don’t think it works that way,” Zed frowned.

“It can,” Meg protested. “I was allergic to eggs as a kid, but I grew out of it.”

“But no TV?” Zed asked plaintively. “Why?”

The best lie was usually one that wasn’t a lie.

“We couldn’t afford one,” Steve shrugged. Televisions like the ones now hadn’t even been a dream when he was a kid, but the one he’d seen at the World’s Fair when he was fifteen had been so expensive as to be a pipe dream for his family.

Apparently a family too poor for a television these days was just as unbelievable as having any television had been back in his day. The whole table just stared at him.

“Medical expenses,” Romanov intoned gravely, and everyone’s faces cleared in understanding.

“Suck,” Chris said succinctly.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Steve explained quickly. “Ma always made sure I had art supplies, and I read a lot.”

“I swear though,” Romanov said with a dramatic sigh, “It’s like talking to an alien sometimes. I mentioned Monty Python once and he asked who’s he?”

The whole table dissolved into laughter.

“I don’t see why that’s so funny,” Steve grumped with a frown.

“Because you still haven't watched it,” Romanov said. “I offered you the disks months ago. You have a TV now, you work for Stark Industries. The new Stark Smart TV was part of the incentive package.” She stared at him hard. “Have you even set it up?”

“It's set up,” Steve said thinking of the large TV in his other living room, still with a little sticker on the corner claiming it was “Stark Smart.” It had been set up when he moved in.

“Have you actually turned it on?” Romanov asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Wait, you work for Stark Industries?” Zed interrupted. “At the Tower?”

“Well, Steve does,” Romanov said. “He's a military consultant. My firm works with SI on their contracts, so we ended up working together and I'm there a lot. Steve practically lives there.”

“Is that why all the drawings of the Avengers?” Roman asked, holding up Steve's sketchbook to a full page drawing of Iron Man blazing through the sky.

“Um,” Steve started but was interrupted by Zed.

“You could sell that,” Zed said, leaning forward. “I know, like, five girls that'd buy that in a heart beat. If you make prints I could bring them to the store. If I say it was done by a Stark employee I can charge double, I'll split it with you fifty-fifty.”

“Zed works at a comic store,” Allison said dryly, looking over Roman's arm as he slowly paged through Steve's book. “But wow, yeah, these are great. You should be doing finished work on better paper though. We've got some Bristol board at work that would take these pencils great.”

“Those are just sketches,” Steve demurred quickly. “Just doodling.”

“Hon, these are doodles,” Meg said tapping a piece of paper her husband had been scratching at, filled with little geometric shapes and daisies. “Those are not doodles.”

Zed sniffed. “The style is really old fashioned though, don't you think?”

“Classic is the term,” Paul corrected as Steve barely hid a flinch at the term old-fashioned. “That's skill. Not many people really bother to learn to draw any more. They skip learning all the anatomy, perspective, composition, and just call it a “style.” This shows real understanding of the pillars of good artwork.”

“Oh, a Black Widow portrait!” Roman grinned, holding up the book before Steve could protest again. 

“Yay,” Allison clapped. “No one ever draws her. We need more Black Widow love.”

“That sounds like a terrible murder mystery title,” Chris laughed.

“Plenty of people draw Black Widow,” Zed protested. “I got a whole binder of Black Widow sketches, they're some of my best sellers!”

“How many of them aren't her having sex with another Avenger?” Allison asked quirking an eyebrow.

Zed started to open his mouth.

“AND fully clothed?” Allison quickly interjected.

“Well, now you're just being unreasonable,” Zed huffed. He turned to Romanov. “You know,” he said musingly. “You kinda look like her. With a wig and a good costume you could pass.”

Steve held his breath as everyone at the table turned to look at Romanov. There was no way they weren't going to figure it out. And if they figured out she was the real Black Widow, would they make the obvious leap that he was that Steve Rogers?

“You do!” Meg said delightedly. “Have you ever thought of cutting your hair? I think Natasha's hair is just to die for. I've even thought of going “Romanov Red,” but short hair doesn't suit me at all. I'm afraid I'd just end up looking like Lucy.”

“I actually dressed up as her for Halloween,” Romanov grinned guilelessly. “Wanna see?” She dug out her phone and let her fingers dance across the surface. “See?”

Romanov held up her phone, displaying a picture of herself posing with a bright orange, and obviously fake, gun. She was making a strange pursed duck lip face at the camera and had on what had to be the worst Black Widow costume in the world. The “body-suit” was loose and shiny, with a printed pattern of a belt, arm bands and thigh holster. It almost looked paper-y and not like fabric. She had on a bob wig in carrot orange, several shades away from her natural color, and you could see her black hair falling out of the back.

“It was kind of a last minute thing,” Romanov laughed, “So I had to go with the extra-large instead of one that, you know, fit. But I don't think I did too badly.”

“It looks like you had fun,” Allison said diplomatically.

“If you want to try again,” Zed said, staring at Romanov's chest. “I've got some way nicer costumes at the store. If you model for me, I'll give you one for free. And I'll pay you royalty on the pictures. Have you ever modeled? Do you do nude?”

“Hey!” Steve blurted.

“Oh my god, Zed,” Allison buried her head in her hands, “You are such a dick.”

“Please ignore him, honey,” Meg said to Romanov. “We need more gals in this little circle.”

“It's fine, it's fine,” Romanov waved off their concerns.

“What?” Zed asked, affronted. “That's what I do. I'm a photographer.”

“You're a pornographer,” Roman corrected, still engrossed in Steve's sketchbook.

“Not that there is anything wrong with porn, just, you know. Time and place, seriously.” Allison said, and Steve could feel his face heat in a furious blush. Did ladies really talk about such things?

“I think we're drifting off subject,” Paul noted.

“Did we have a subject?” Chris asked, idly paging through one of Allison's magazines.

“Steve's artwork,” Paul rapped the table with a knuckle. “Where did you study?”

“I didn't really,” Steve said, glancing at Romanov. She gave him a little nod and he decided that meant it was safe for him to tell the truth. “I was going to go to art school, but then Ma died just after I turned eighteen...so I enlisted instead.” Which was close enough to the truth.

“You just got back recently, right?” Allison said sympathetically. “You could go to school now, use up your GI Bill.”

“Oh, Military?” Meg asked. “Where did you serve?”

“Afghanistan, wasn't it?” Romanov squinted at him as if trying to remember. “Or was it Iraq? It was someplace sandy.”

“Afghanistan,” Steve confirmed. He'd read most about the conflict there after hearing that Stark had been held there. If he had to lie, he'd be able to do it most convincingly about there. “Among other places.”

“What unit?” Allison asked curiously, “My brother is over there now-”

“Wait,” Roman interrupted and Steve was glad for the interruption.“You're saying this is all self study?” Roman whistled. “Wow, man. Hey, look, Allison, it's you.”

He held up the first page.

Allison blinked. “That's... wow.”

“Eee... that looks just like you,” Meg squeaked. “Do me!”

“I could really live my whole life without hearing my wife tell another man to 'do her' again,” Chris commented idly, looking through another magazine. He didn't seem to have a craft or art of his own, Steve wondered if he was just there to escort his wife.

“It doesn't just look like me, that's exactly what I was wearing when we met,” Allison said taking the book out of Roman's hands. “Down to the number of bracelets.” 

Roman took the book back. “I'm not done yet.”

“Photographic memory,” Steve said with a shrug, “And uh, I did that the day we met. I wanted to use all the colors in my new pencil set.”

“Our Allison is certainly colorful,” Paul agreed.

“Photographic memory?” Zed sniffed. “So it's not really skill then, you're just copying what you remember.”

“You say that like it's easy,” Meg shook her head, eyes focused on her stitching.

“So, I guess you don't like Captain America,” Roman said, flipping through the pages again.

“What?” Steve blinked. “What makes you say that?”

“You don't draw him,” Roman answered. “Except here,” he flipped to the last page with the cartoon Stark and all his blahs. “And you drew him as a monkey.”

“Mmm... Political,” Paul commented. “Is it a commentary on how the industrial complex is beating down on American values? Or is it about Stark Industries refusal to make weapons for the military, leaving them defenseless?”

“Neither?” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Maybe it's about the fact its so totally disrespectful to use a dead soldier’s image the way they are!” Allison said hotly. 

“Oh, not this again!” Zed huffed.

“Yes, this again,” Allison growled. “There's no way that's the original Captain America!”

“Aliens and Norse Gods attacked two blocks from your store, and the fact that one of the guys who beat them back claims to be from World War II is what bothers you?” Romanov blinked.

“Yes! Aliens I can believe, but my dad worshiped Captain America. He's the one of the reasons he went into service. No way Captain America survived that plane crash and just sat out the rest of the War.” Allison slapped open her journal, letting it fall to a couple of pages of primed red painted paper.

“Maybe he didn't have a choice?” Romanov mused. “They haven't really said, have they?”

Fury and the others, they'd said it wasn't safe to reveal everything about Steve's miraculous return. A lot of his history was public knowledge. Heck, the comics had said exactly how he'd become Captain America down to the vita-rays and coffin he'd been zapped in. They'd only left out the actual composition of the serum, and only because that had been lost with Erskine. His current life was being kept off the books, including that you can stop Captain America cold with... well a little cold.

A lot of cold; cold that came in crashing waves, sharp blades of ice and suffocating water as metal creaked and succumbed all around him-

“Steve?” Romanov placed an hand on his arm, “You okay?”

“Mmm?” He managed, looking up. He cleared his throat.“Uh, yeah. Just a little tired?” He didn't mean it to come out like a question, but it did. He probably could have stopped the pleading look in her direction, but he didn't bother. He was ready to exit this situation, and if anyone could extract them without ruffling feathers it would be Romanov.

“Ugh, tell me about it, I had to come in early and stay late because of the French situation,” Romanov looked at her watch with a frown, “It's not even nine but it feels like midnight. It must be worse for you, you were called in on Sunday, weren't you? It's been all week for you.” 

“So what do you do for Stark Industries? I mean, what does a military consultant do?” Chris asked, setting down his magazine. “I thought they didn't take military contracts anymore?”

“Not for weapons,” Steve said, scrambling for a lie. 

“Steeeeve,” Romanov chided, “non-disclosure agreement.”

“Oh, right,” Steve said in relief, “Sorry, R..ushman.” He'd almost slipped and called her Romanov. 

“Nat,” Romanov corrected, rolling her eyes. “You can call me Nat when we're not at work. Actually, even when we're at work.”

“Nat,” Steve repeated. “Sorry.”

“It's all that military training,” Allison explained for him as she cut around a picture of a dog in a pet food ad. “Whenever Dad or David come home it's all Ma'am, Sir, and last names for weeks. I hear Stark hires a lot of ex-military. David was thinking of applying once he gets out.”

“Oh, use Steve's name on the app if he does,” Romanov cooed. “Employees get a bonus for new hires, or at least he will after his probationary period is over.”

“You're still in your 90 days?” Roman asked. “Be careful, you can be let go for just about anything in the first 90 days, like, sleeping can get you fired.”

“Sleeping on the clock can get you fired no matter what,” Allison groaned. 

“I wasn't on the clock!” Roman protested. “It was after my shift!”

“Why you sleeping at the lab?” Meg asked, looking up from her stitching. “Oh, you didn't.”

“Didn't what?” Paul asked, then frowned. “Oh, Roman... again?”

“Nick and I broke up,” Roman sighed. “I didn't feel right staying with him after... you know.”

“You were dating your room-mate?” Chris asked. “Again? Dude, by the number of times that has gone spectacularly wrong for you, you'd think you'd have learned by now.”

“But he was such a good guy,” Roman said miserably. He looked at Allison, “Um, so I was wondering if you still had that couch...”

“One week,” Allison said firmly. “ONE.”

“Thank you so much,” Roman said, resting his head on the table. “Oh, my god, I slept at the gym last night, it was horrible and I almost got caught. Plus, my membership is up tomorrow.”

Chris sighed, “Christ, man, learn to keep it in your pants. I know Nick was cute and all-”

“He kinda looked like Thor,” Roman explained to Steve. “All blonde and Nordic.” He turned back to Allison, “You know the worst thing is that I really can't go back to Mama Nancy's now. Both he and Philly work there, one of them is bound to be on shift any time I go in. Damn, they had the best fried egg hamburgers.”

“That's the third restaurant you can't eat at because your exes work there. Maybe this is a clue,” Chris said, “Don't fuck where you eat.” He paused. “Or sleep.”

“If you followed that rule, you'd have to move out,” Meg said giving him a peck on the cheek.

“That's different. I bought the cow, I get all the milk I want,” Chris said. “It's safe.”

“Did you just call your wife a cow?” Roman asked.

Steve was simultaneously relieved the focus was off of him and amazed at the brazen conversation going on around him. He'd gotten the memo, several from SHIELD and Pepper, on the different civil rights movements. Homosexuality was no longer illegal, and much more accepted now. And honestly, it'd never bothered him much what other fellas (or ladies) got up to in their own time. But he hadn't realized that people just talked about it so casually, in mixed company even. A group of fellas might talk like that amongst themselves, but in front of ladies... or your own wife? 

Romanov yawned prettily. “I'm sorry, guys,” she apologized. “I'm kind of with Steve, completely exhausted. Everyone at SI has been working overtime like mad. You should apply, Roman, if you're between jobs. They've been short handed since the Incident.”

“I only have an art degree, Illustration,” Roman said. “But if their Janitorial is hiring...”

“Everything is hiring, including Janitorial and the Art Department.” Romanov rolled her eyes and rose.“I have written so many offer letters in the past couple of months. God, it's so boring. Steve, do you mind giving me a lift? I'm afraid I'll fall asleep in a cab or on the subway.”

“Yes, of course,” Steve said and hastily rose, relieved to be going. “It was a pleasure meeting everyone.”

“Likewise, I'm sure,” Meg dimpled. “Do come back, handsome.”

“What she said,” Roman grinned. “Thanks for the job tip, Nat. Hope to see you next month.”

“I'll try,” Romanov smiled, looking young and carefree. Steve hadn't noticed before, but she couldn't be all that much older than he was, minus the ice years. “We both will, won't we, Steve?”

“Yeah, I had a swell time,” he smiled. 

“See you at the store!” Allison called as they left. “You come in and buy some of that bristol board. You won't regret it. Oh wait!” She waved him back. “Give me your cell! Sometimes we meet up to go to a museum or you know, just hang out. I'll add you two to the phone tree.”

“Take my card,” Romanov smiled, pulling one out of her purse. She scribbled something on the back. “This is Steve's number, mine's on the front.” Steve was grateful, he wasn't sure if he even knew his phone number.

Steve waved, following Romanov out of the coffee shop. “I, uh, only have my bike,” he said as they crossed the street in silence. 

“Works for me, Cap, if you've got a second helmet.” Romanov looked at him out of the corner of her eye, all animation and “Natalie” goofiness gone from her expression. “You should be good to go next month on your own. Read up on Afghanistan, and I'll find out where Allison's brother is stationed so you can avoid it completely in your stories if it comes up again.” 

Her gait had gone from Natalie's casual sashay back to her own regular direct gunfire stomp. “We've laid the ground work for your personal history, and no one will expect you to know most of the pop culture stuff. But you should learn a bit about video games. That's practically the only entertainment to be had between missions in the desert. Get an Xbox, and get a couple games, avoid RPGs and go for shooters and war sims, Call of Duty and Halo are your best bet. JARVIS can set you up with an online account. I peg Roman, Chris and Zed as gamers, though Meg and Paul probably do some too.”

Her steps ate up the ground to where Steve's bike sat, shining in the dark side street.“You have to come up with a dummy address too, and familiarize yourself with the neighborhood if you don't want to blow your cover. You can't live at the tower and not be an Avenger, Stark nixed the apartment levels when he converted the top floors for Avengers used. I'd suggest Queens, somewhere near the Parkers' since you're already familiar with that neighborhood.” 

“You aren't coming back?” Steve blinked, coming to a stop by his bike. “Didn't you have fun?”

“Did you?” Romanov tilted her head up at him.

“I... um. I think so?” Steve shook his head. “I didn't know what to expect, but that wasn't it. Why did you come, Romanov?”

Romanov smiled, a strange cat-like grin that looked much more natural on her face than the ones she'd been sporting as “Natalie.” “You should call me Nat, or you'll slip when it's important. I figured you might need some backup,” Romanov shrugged answering his question. 

“It was obvious you didn't want them to think of you as Captain America, but since that's your natural state... Somebody had to lie for you.” She shrugged again, turning her gaze away. “That's what I do, what I'm good at. This is what I am. I decided to help. That's what friends do, isn't it?”

“Are we friends?” Steve asked, studying the small woman in front of him. Romanov intimidated him, she was so smart, skilled and just... a force of nature he couldn't hope to keep up with. He'd known that when he'd launched her up to that glider during the battle. But the woman standing against his bike, Nat, looking up at him from the corner of her eye, seemed much more human, vulnerable, than he'd ever imagined the Black Widow being.

“It'd be nice if we could tolerate each other,” Nat replied with a faint smile, “We're supposed to be team mates.” 

“I tolerate you just fine,” Steve smiled. “Thanks, Nat. I think you should come back next month, if you had fun.”

“The chai was good,” Natasha shrugged. “I'll think about it.”

“Your sketches weren't bad either,” Steve said stowing their sketchbooks in the saddle bags and pulling out his helmet. “I still only have the one, and the cowl. Which one do you want?”

“Steve, you a horrible liar. Those sketches were horrendous,” she took the Captain cowl/helmet from him and plopped it over her face. “Wouldn't do for anyone from the club to see you in this. C'mon, I can't wait to get these extensions out. I forgot how inconvenient long hair can be.”

“Your sketches were very good for a beginner. And I think you look nice,” Steve said politely as he strapped on his helmet. “But I like your natural hair better.”

“What makes you think red is my natural color?” Natasha grinned up at him.

“It suits you?” Steve shrugged, settling on the bike. “Are you hungry? I could eat a burger or three.”

“Let's find that Mama Nancy's Roman mentioned,” Romanov suggested climbing on the back and settling her hands lightly on his hips. “I like the sound of a fried egg burger, and from the tenor of the conversation none of them are going to be there any time soon.”

“JARVIS?” Steve asked his helmet.

“Plotting the route, Captain,” JARVIS said. “Yelp has highly rated the loaded bacon cheese fries at this location as well.”

“Who is Yelp?” Steve asked as he took off, Natasha expertly balancing behind him.

::0::0::0::

Roman's ex-boyfriend Nick was their server. He didn't look a thing like Thor, except for being vaguely muscular with long blonde hair. Philly worked behind the counter as their cook. He was blonde too, but he wore it in a buzz cut and his thick forearms were covered in tattoos. There were a couple of women in the place as well, but there was a distinctly male slant to the clientele. There had been a rainbow flag decal decorating the door. 

“That was what Stark was talking about with rainbow flags thing when we were talking about getting Peter to come out,” Steve said keeping his voice low. “It means something.”

“It means gay-friendly,” Natasha said, chasing a bit of bacon with a fry. “Does it bother you that we're in a gay diner?”

Steve thought about it, it made him a little uncomfortable. But only because it reminded him of some of the places that had gone out of their way to proclaim being “colored” friendly (or unfriendly) back when he was a boy. He didn't like the thought that they had to mark safe ground, it implied that everywhere else wasn't safe. He said as much to Nat.

“Things are getting better,” Natasha said. “But it takes time. You're handling this better than I thought you would. I thought you'd be much more uncomfortable around Roman.”

“Roman seems like a nice enough fella. Nat, I was a ninety-pound art student,” he reminded her. “Even back in my day, artists were allowed to be more open than the rest of the world. Especially if they didn't think you might pop them one in the mouth for flirting, especially if they thought you couldn't do any damage if you did decide to. He's not the first homosexual I've met... or even been friends with.”

“Say 'gay',” Nat advised. “Homo is considered a slur, and homosexual sounds too clinical.”

“He's not the first gay man I've known,” Steve corrected himself.

“Better,” Nat smiled. She looked up as Nick wandered over to refill their water glasses. “These things are sinful,” she said referring to the fries.

“Most popular item on the menu,” Nick said cheerfully. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

“Another burger,” Steve said, “And another order of the loaded fries.”

“I'd ask where you're putting it all, but I can see for myself,” Nick shook his head with an appreciative graze of eyes over Steve's figure. “I'll put that right in.” Steve just smiled and didn't respond to the flirting. Nick didn't seem too broken up about his break up.

Nat licked her fingers of cheese as Nick walked away with Steve's third burger and fries order. “You're going to have to be careful,” she commented idly, using a fry to scoop up more cheese and bacon bits. “Roman definitely has a type.”

“What?” Steve blinked. “You mean he might hit on me? Why?”

“Because you too are big and blonde, and he was making eyes at you all night.” 

“But I'm not-” Steve lowered his voice, hunching forward,“gay.” 

“How would he,” Natasha lowered her voice and ducked closer, just like Steve had, “know that?”

Steve blinked at her owlishly.

“Shouldn't be too much of a problem,” she smiled at him and finished off the last of the cheese-fries. “It's not like you're going to 'pop' him one for making a pass, right? I just thought you might appreciate a heads up, so you could prepare, time to strategise.”

“Thanks,” Steve rolled his eyes, “Now I'll just fret about it.” 

“Is that what they're calling it?” Nat said straight-faced as Nick delivered the new order. Her phone chirped and she pulled it out of her back pocket. She let out a little sigh, “Hey, Nick, could I get another burger and fries to go?”

“Sure thing!”

“Problem?” Steve asked, tensing.

“Parker and Clint,” Nat explained. “Web-head got an early start tonight, and Clint didn't get dinner apparently. I texted him about the fries here, now he wants some. I'm going to be a good friend and bring him some before I turn in.”

Steve looked down at his plate, suddenly feeling nauseous. He'd almost forgotten about Barton. He looked up at Nat. “I think I messed up with Barton,” Steve confessed.

“You did.” Nat confirmed. “But he's a standoffish, sensitive dick, so that happens a lot. It's why he and Stark get along so well,” she smiled. “You'll figure it out.”

“Can you give me any advice?” Steve asked. “You're his best friend.” And maybe more, he'd never quite been able to figure out their relationship, and wasn't impolite enough to ask.

“If you can't figure it out,” Natasha said, suddenly slipping into her Black Widow expressionless mask, “Or don't care to put in the effort, you don't deserve to have him as a friend.” 

Steve swallowed thickly.

“Here are your burgers,” Rick said brightly. “I figured you wanted yours wrapped up too? And the check?” He said to Steve.

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve said, not looking at it. He just handed Rick his credit card and signed the slip, adding on an exorbitant tip, even by today's standards. They'd been there for a while.

“Thanks for dinner,” Nat said as they exited. “I'll make my way to Clint's location by cab. I doubt Peter will recognize me as I am, but he'd recognize your bike anywhere.”

“I can't believe they didn't recognize you at art-jam,” Steve said shaking his head. “Especially with Zed and his costume...suggestion.” 

“People see what they want to see. No one expected Captain America and Black Widow to show up to a little art club in a coffee shop, so it made us invisible to them. Especially if you show them how little you are like their mental ideal.”

“Did you make that picture just for that?” Steve asked. “Just for tonight?”

“You're not the only one who wants to be invisible sometimes,” Natasha said with a shrug and a toss of her false hair as she flagged down a cab. It wasn't really an answer. “I want to get this to Clint before it gets cold.”

“Goodnight,” Steve said as Natasha disappeared into a cab. 

He tucked his burger and fries into the saddle bags, well away from his suit and sketchbook and headed home.

“JARVIS,” Steve said weaving through traffic on his way home, careful to remain under the speed limit, “is Dr. Banner still awake?”

“Yes, it is not his custom to retire until quite late. He is currently in his lab,” JARVIS answered.

“Thanks.” He owed Bruce an apology for ignoring his messages, and he desperately wanted someone to talk to about what he'd experienced tonight. 

::0::0::0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to come out. Literally everything in my life seems to be working not quite right at the moment. My car, my laptop, my internet, my microwave, tumblr all broken, my job reduced hours across the board, family members and pets have been hospitalized (though they recovering). I've lost count of the times I've tried to upload this. Hopefully this one goes through and was worth the wait.


End file.
